Lovers and Madmen
by boidwriter
Summary: What if the last scene of the final episode was just a dream?  Sometimes it's our own insecurities that create the most drama...and sometimes they have a little help.   Chapters 32 and 33 are up.
1. Betty's Bugaboo

_Betty bounced down the stairs looking back once to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. Daniel was here and he'd invited her out to dinner. She could hardly believe it. They were going to make amends for this stupid rift that was between them after all. Her heart was soaring. _

_She cut across the centre of Trafalgar Square and then turned left heading toward her office. As she approached the busy street she looked left quickly first and then looked right as she simultaneously stepped out to cross._

_Suddenly there was the blast of a car horn and the squeal of breaks. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion as the bumper of the car approached her. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out…_

Betty sat upright in bed. Her heart was pounding, her hands sweating, and her chest tight with panic. Relief flooded in and she started breathing normally once she processed her surroundings. _A dream, it was only a dream._

With that realization came the corresponding disappointment and it felt like lead in her stomach. Daniel wasn't in London. He hadn't asked her to dinner. In fact, they still weren't even speaking.

It had been almost a month since she'd landed in London and she still hadn't heard from him, but not from a lack of effort on her part – she'd sent emails, texts, and left messages on his phone all to no avail before she left New York. She'd heard _about_ him though, through Marc, Amanda and Mrs. Meade. Apparently he'd stepped down from Mode but there was a noticeable lack of explanation from any of them as to why. And although it was probable Amanda and Marc didn't know, it seemed likely Claire Meade did and yet she wasn't volunteering any information in that regard. Betty hadn't wanted to pry so she had just left it, even though her curiosity was killing her.

She looked at the clock on her bedside table - it was twelve thirty. Great, a two hour nap and now she was wide awake thanks to that dream. Dropping back to sleep quickly seemed unlikely so she climbed out of bed and went out to the tiny kitchen of her small London flat to make herself a cup of chamomile tea.

She turned on her laptop as the drone of her electric kettle filled the silence in her apartment. The benefit of living an ocean away from most of the people you care about was that it was still early in New York; maybe someone was online. While it booted up she made the tea and processed her options. It was Wednesday night so Justin had drama rehearsal and Hilda would probably still have clients because Bobby worked late on Wednesdays so she usually did too. She decided to Skype Amanda instead. Lately it was fun to talk to her. She always seemed to have interesting celebrity gossip to share. Whether or not the gossip was true was debatable, but it was interesting to hear anyway. Plus she was kind of sweet more often then not lately and almost never insulted her on purpose anymore. A lighthearted, amusing tidbit of gossip might be just the thing to take her mind off of that dream.

"Ev'ning Gov'na'," Marc responded in the most pathetic British accent he could muster when his face appeared on the screen.

"Isn't the accent getting a little old, Marc?" Betty asked. He always did that when he spoke to her lately.

"Aren't your eyebrows getting a little bushy, Betty?" Marc retorted.

"Where's Amanda?" Betty asked, ignoring his insult.

"She went out and she's not home yet. Nice look," he said sarcastically indicating her flannel bunny pajamas and messy hair.

Immediately regretting she didn't straighten up a little before Skyping, she put her hand up to her head to smooth her hair out a little.

"I had a bad dream and now I can't sleep," Betty offered as an explanation.

"Aww." Marc almost seemed sympathetic. "What did you dream, that they outlawed donuts in Great Britain?"

"Nooo, if you must know, I dreamt I was run down by a car."

"Hmm. Was I driving it?" Marc was intrigued.

"No! Why would you ask that?" She was horrified that he would think that.

"Because if I was driving it, then I've had that exact same dream before. It ranks right up there just behind the one where I single handedly secure a sweep for Mode at the MAMA's and anything with Jake Gyllenhaal." He changed the subject. "Hey, I saw that interview you did for your new magazine on the British news."

"Really?"

Lindsey Dunne had set up a publicity blitz in order to get the word out about the magazine before the first issue was to hit the newsstands, but it was mainly local London media and certainly nothing that would have reached the States. Betty figured he must have seen it online.

"Yeah. You did a good job, Suarez. I guess under all those tacky, hideous patterns and cheap manmade fibers, lies the heart of a not terrible managing editor."

"Aww. Thank you Marc." Betty was touched; Marc must be in a good mood, there was almost a compliment in there somewhere. "You know, I'd hug you right now if I was there," she grinned at him.

"Ugh…" he shuddered. "About that interview, you know they say the camera adds ten pounds but in your case I wouldn't worry about it. That god-awful colour you wore completely washed you out and distracted from your weight issues."

She ignored his insult again. "How did you find it? You must have Googled me." An excited smile broke across her face.

Marc winced a little. "Cool your jets Betty. I was only trying to see if you grace London with the same type of humiliation you did New York. I figured if you did something particularly mortifying it might make the news, seeing as you're running a magazine now and all."

Betty heard the door of Marc's apartment and Amanda's greeting. "Hey snarky Marc."

Marc turned away from the computer. "Hey randy Mandy. The furry one is one line." He whispered behind his hand to Amanda "It's too late for me, but save yourself."

She hurried over to the computer excitedly, shoving Marc off of the chair so hard that he fell to the floor and then she took his place in front of the computer. "Heeey Betty," she said with a lazy, sultry voice and then her face approached the camera until only her lips were visible and she puckered making an exaggerated kissing noise.

"Hi Amanda. That was a….warm welcome."

"I just miss you Betty - you and your erotic Mexican personality."

"I think you mean exotic, right?" Betty said correcting her, although with Amanda you could never be too sure.

"Actually, I think she means _neurotic_," Marc said snidely. He'd picked himself up off of the floor and grabbed another chair so they were both in front of the computer.

"I miss you too." Betty said to Amanda trying to ignore Marc. "How's business this week?"

"Fabuloso. Spencer hooked me up with some other soap actors he works with and I've got two new clients."

"That's great, Amanda. You guys seem to really be getting along."

"We are. He's vain, catty, snide and totally melodramatic. He's everything I always hoped my biological father would be." she sighed with a smile.

"Oh. Well, that's…uh, great, I guess," Betty said with uncertainty.

"And I finally see where I get certain traits, you know? Like, I've known for a while that my terrific fashion sense comes from Fey but I can finally see where I get my people skills, insightfulness and sensitivity. So how's Africa?" she asked almost in the same breath.

"Amanda, I'm in England," Betty reminded her again for about the fifth time since she'd moved.

"Oh, right. Well, how's the Queen?"

"She's—" Betty wasn't sure how to answer that but it didn't matter because Amanda didn't let her finish.

"And how's your love life, hmmm? Have you met any brawny British chaps to jolly good your tally-ho or whatever the expression is in their language?" Amanda waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"I think the _separate_ expressions you are referring to are 'jolly good' and 'tally ho' and they don't have anything to do with sex," Betty explained.

"Mmmm. Don't they?" Amanda asked unconvinced, giving Betty her bedroom eyes.

"No, they don't," Betty insisted, a little disconcerted that Amanda could make even those expressions sound dirty.

"Really? Are you sure Betty?" she asked again with the same deep voice and expression.

"I'm pretty sure. _Anyway_...I don't have a love life right now," Betty said trying to steer Amanda away from there.

Amanda nodded understanding. "It's the outfits, right?" Amanda pinched the shoulder of her blouse. Then she looked sympathetically at her and added "And the hair? You know I thought your fashion sense had improved a little before you left but you seemed to have slipped back into old habits."

"Amanda, these are my pajamas," Betty explained trying to smooth her hair with her hand again. "Actually, I don't have much of a life at all apart from running the magazine."

Marc piped up with a mocking sarcastic tone. "Aww, poor Betty has so much work to do as a managing editor that she doesn't have any time for herself. It must be so awful to have to run your own magazine."

"Not _awful_ Marc, but definitely busy. I have staff I need to manage that I'm just starting to get to know. I have to hire new staff to fill in some positions so I'm interviewing people and I need to stay on top of all the current events so I can make sure the magazine is relevant. It's very time consuming. Not that I'm complaining though, I really love it." She gave them a huge smile.

Marc rolled his eyes. "Oooh quick Betty, get your camera so you can take a picture of me not caring."

"_I_ would care Betty but all got from that was blah, blah, blah, 'positions' blah, blah 'stay on top'," Amanda replied.

"So how's Mode, Marc?" Betty asked, desperately hoping to move to a safer subject.

"Mode's great. Willie's giving me some extra creative projects to work on. I just finished selecting the outfits for the cover shoot that we're doing for next month's issue."

"That's great. So, what's it like with Wilhelmina solely in charge?" Betty wondered.

"Picture Kim Jong-il without the soft edges."

"At least she's capable," Betty replied in some attempt to find something positive. "She never would have been left in charge if the Meades didn't think so."

"Yeah, that sure was a surprise, wasn't it? I never would have guessed Daniel would let Wilhelmina take over after all the stuff that happened between them," Amanda commented.

"Well I guess that's all water under the bridge now," Marc said nonchalantly as if he'd never been a cohort in any of the scheming and then he added in a poorly veiled attempt to change the topic, "But what's Daniel doing now, I wonder?"

Betty shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to talk about Daniel.

Amanda responded. "I don't know. I haven't heard from him for a while. Hasn't he shown his face around Mode since he left, Marc?"

"No, he hasn't."

"What about you Betty? Have you heard from him?" Amanda asked.

"Uh, no, honestly I haven't." Betty tried to keep the obvious regret out of her voice.

"Still not speaking, huh." Amanda looked knowingly at Marc. "That must have been quite the fight you two had before you left."

"It wasn't really a fight, more like a regretful communication error," Betty clarified. She glared at the screen but it was aimed at Marc.

He smiled sheepishly; obviously it wasn't lost on him. His demeanor changed a little. "Look Betty, you can blame me for the 'communication error' if you like but you'd taken the job long before I interfered and you didn't tell him yourself for some reason. Besides, it's been a lifetime since then and it's hardly my fault you haven't spoken to him. I doubt you've already forgotten his cell number."

Betty knew Marc was right. It wasn't his fault she hadn't called Daniel since she arrived in London. But she figured she'd already done her part at trying to reconcile, and he obviously wasn't interested. Why did she have to be the one to extend the olive branch in order to make things right again. Was she the only one who cared about their friendship?

She sighed deeply. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

"I didn't realize this was such a sensitive issue. If it's bothering you so much, just call him."

"It's not that simple Marc. I think he hates me. In fact, if he knew it was me calling, he probably wouldn't answer his phone. He didn't return any of my calls before I left New York."

"Well that was weeks ago. Surely he's not still holding it against you."

Betty shrugged feeling rather doubtful about that.

Marc continued his argument with exasperation bordering on annoyance in his tone. "I have no idea why, but for some reason he's always respected you and valued your friendship. I'm sure he can't hate you forever."

"Maybe you're right." Betty considered it a little.

"Of course I'm right."

"So are you going to call him?" Amanda wondered.

"I'll think about it."

A large part of her wanted to. She always had such an uneasy feeling whenever she and Daniel were on the "outs". Unfortunately, deep down she knew she had her own unresolved issues to deal with before she could reach out to him. Mainly she had to stop being so angry with him. And that was getting increasingly difficult to do the longer this estrangement continued.


	2. Throw Mama From the Tea Room

Daniel rifled though a plastic storage container in the bottom of his storage locker. He was writing a paper for one of his on-line prep courses at NYU and he remembered that he'd kept some of his old business text books from Harvard. Why, he didn't know, but he knew they were in there somewhere and they would really come in handy now that he'd decided to go back to school in the fall.

He shoved one aside and tried opening another one but it was stuck for some reason. He yanked at one corner, tried the other one, then the third. Finally, his frustration brewing, he gave the container a hard, swift kick, knocking it over. He gasped as the pain shot up his foot and he clutched it in both hands hopping up and down. Damn container!

Once the pain subsided a little he right-sided the container and tried opening it from the end instead. It popped open easily and he took the lid off.

He froze, surprised by the enormous article staring back at him. He'd forgotten he had it. Why on earth had he kept it? It was garish and awful and the memories it held were ones he'd rather forget.

Slumping down to a sitting position on the floor, he sighed. She hadn't even intended it for him in the first place. It had been meant for Henry but when Betty had seen Daniel's black eye, the result of a drug deal gone awry and he'd lied, making up some stupid story about a girl scout, she'd given it to him instead. It was a sorry reminder of how low he'd sunk back then but it also reminded him of how far he'd come. He slowly lifted the offensive object from the container with a wistful smile. The ugly blue sombrero that Betty had brought back from Mexico felt very heavy.

He suddenly realized it had been an entire day since he'd thought of Betty. Was that a new record? She'd been gone almost a month and he hadn't heard a word from her - like a self-imposed exile from his life. Maybe if he'd returned one of the many email, texts, or phone calls that wouldn't have happened. But that was precisely the point wasn't it? That's why he'd shunned her for the two weeks before she left in the first place. He couldn't stand the thought of hearing about her exciting new life in London - a life without him. He couldn't imagine listening to her go on in her chirpy, exuberant way about her exciting new job, her exciting new apartment, her exciting new friends and expecting him to be happy about it. Obviously he still carried a huge streak of selfish around with him. Maybe he hadn't come as far as he'd originally thought.

Well that and he lacked the courage it took to say goodbye. He wasn't an idiot – she needed to go. This was her dream; it had been her dream for years. He also knew that his foolish, impulsive side was likely to say something he'd regret if he had tried to face her to say goodbye. And even if, by some miracle, he had managed to get through it by simply wishing her well and saying they'd keep in touch, he knew she would have noticed something in his tone or his expression. She would have called him on it and the truth about how he was feeling about her would have come spilling out. He couldn't do that to her. Not since she'd decided this was what she wanted to do. It would have confused her. She might even have been so confused the she would have stayed and Daniel knew he couldn't let her do that. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. Deep down, if he was honest, he was terrified it wouldn't have made any difference to her at all.

He looked underneath and found the text books. He lifted them out and put the hat back, replacing the lid and shoving the box back into the corner.

Back up in his apartment, surrounded by loose pages, his laptop open on the coffee table in front of him, he tried desperately to focus on his paper. He read the same paragraph of the text book he was holding three times and he still didn't know what it said. He ran his fingers through his hair, placed the book down and got up off of the sofa where he was working to grab a drink.

His cell phone rang just as he shut the fridge so he grabbed the glass of juice he'd poured and hurried back to the coffee table where he'd left it. The display showed it was his mother.

"Hey Mom," he answered as he sat back down amidst the mess of papers.

"Hello Daniel. How are you?" she asked with that overly concerned tone she'd been giving him for weeks – since Betty had left, in fact.

He had to hand it to her though, despite her obvious worry, she hadn't stuck her nose in. It was slightly bizarre and a little out of character but he'd take it for now.

"I'm great, just working on a paper." He feigned the enthusiasm he hadn't been feeling this morning.

"Do you have time for lunch today?" she inquired, her tone hopeful.

"Uh…" He was about to decline. He hadn't had the desire to go out anywhere lately. It's not that he was depressed exactly; he just felt lost.

"Please," she added as if she could detect he was about to say no.

"Sure. When and where?" This was his mother and she was practically begging him, he wasn't cold and perhaps lunch would distract him.

"How about the Russian Tea Room at 12:30? I've already made a reservation." He could hear the relief in her tone.

"Sounds great, Mom. I'll see you later." He hung up and tried to get back to work on his paper.

A few hours later he was sitting at the table, menu in hand, wondering why the Russian Tea room was so busy on a Sunday afternoon. Claire was across the table from him going on about the boob-job of some socialite she'd run into at Macy's the other day.

"Why any woman over fifty would bother with implants but not a facelift is beyond me. That's like putting a shiny new bumper on a rusty old Volvo," she remarked before she sipped her soda water. She seemed thoughtful when she added, "I suppose the sagging starts to get to you after a while though. These once perky items hanging down to your waist can be a little depressing. But I try to think of them as badges of honour for nursing my boys. Just one of the many sacrifices a mother makes." She paused like she was expecting him to say something but Daniel didn't know what to add so he didn't say a word and continued looking at his menu.

Finally after a minute of silence she added, "Alexis called me this morning. I spoke to her and D.J for about an hour. I expected her call today but I didn't expect we'd talk for so long." She looked at him with some sort of vague anticipation but again Daniel had no idea what she was expecting.

"That's great Mom," Daniel said, hoping she was just looking for acknowledgement.

"I guess when you become a mother yourself, days like this have a little more meaning, don't you think?"

"I guess. It's hard to think of Alexis as a mother, especially since technically she's D.J.'s father. Wait…days like what?"

Claire sighed and folded her menu. "You don't know what today is, do you Daniel?"

"Uh…Sunday?" he guessed, although he knew that wasn't what she was hinting at.

"It's Mother's Day, Darling. Obviously you didn't notice the Happy Mother's Day sign at the entrance."

"No, I guess I didn't. I'm sorry I forgot. Happy Mother's Day Mom." He gave her a feeble smile.

"Yes, well, it just makes me realize how much I miss Betty. At least she would have reminded you." She paused again for dramatic effect before adding "if you were speaking to each other."

Daniel frowned slightly, ignoring the jab. "So what should we do today to celebrate?" he asked, veering away from the subject of Betty as he folded his menu and placed it on the table.

"Well, you can buy me lunch, for one thing," she smirked. "Speaking of Betty—"

"We weren't," Daniel cut her off bluntly.

"_I_ was Darling, and seeing as I had to make my own reservations for my Mother's Day lunch I think it only fair that I get to choose the topic of conversation." she said in a tone that meant she wasn't going to be deterred.

Daniel sighed. "Don't you have any thing else you'd rather discuss?"

"No," she replied firmly.

"Seriously Mom, there has to be something more uplifting, like the economic crisis or global warming or something? Mode! How about we talk about Mode and how Wilhelmina is doing?"

"I understand that this is making you uncomfortable but I think I need to tell you that Betty—"

"Mom, I really don't feel like talking about this." His tone was almost pleading as he took a sip of his water and looked away hoping she'd take pity on him.

The waiter arrived to take their order and Daniel was thankful for the reprieve however brief it might be. Seconds after the waiter had left their table Claire sighed deeply, dramatically and leaned forward slightly to indicate the importance of what she was about to say.

"Daniel Darling, listen to me. I have been keeping my mouth shut for weeks hoping you'd man up and do the right thing, but I cannot stay silent any longer. She thinks you hate her."

"Hate her? Why would she think that I hate her?" That seemed utterly ridiculous to him; his over-dramatic mother must be reading too much into things.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you ignored her for two weeks before she left, avoided all her phone calls, skipped out of her going away party and didn't even have the decency to say goodbye," Claire stated pointedly, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms.

Okay, perhaps it wasn't impossible that Betty might read some hostility into that. He started to feel guilty again, the way he'd felt when he'd heard Betty's first few voicemail messages, before he stopped listening to them altogether.

"I get it Mom. I was a louse."

"Louse is putting it mildly," she retorted.

Daniel slumped a little in his seat and said petulantly, "I don't hate her Mom. I just couldn't say goodbye."

"I know that Darling, but Betty doesn't," Claire looked sympathetic for the first time since he'd joined her at the table.

"I want to be happy for her but I can't. I know it's selfish but I didn't want her to go," he admitted, realizing it was the first time he'd said that aloud.

Claire nodded. "It's especially difficult to say goodbye to someone when you have feelings for them."

"Mom…" Daniel used his best warning tone; he did not want to go there right now.

"Daniel, why is this so hard for you to admit? It is obvious now that you have feelings for her. If I hadn't suspected it by your behaviour before she left I certainly would have by the way you've been acting since then."

He sighed with exasperation. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been mopey. You've been avoiding social situations and you haven't been out on a date for weeks."

"How do you know that? Are you spying on me or something?"

"This lunch is the first invitation you've accepted in almost a month. And I'm not _spying_ Dear. You make it sound so sordid. I've just been observing, inquiring, and placing some well timed phone calls on Friday and Saturday evenings."

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. He hadn't noticed she'd been calling him on weekend evenings. But now that he thought about it, she was regularly interrupting his Saturday evening DVD fest with her calls.

"So, Inspector Gadget, should I be impressed by your stealth or offended by your intrusiveness?" he asked.

"I'm just concerned Daniel."

"Well don't be. I've just been busy with…uh…getting ready to go back to school." It was lame he realized; his online prep course took a couple hours a week.

"Yes, and I'm proud of you for that. Your father would be too," Claire smiled ignoring the pathetic excuse. "You know who else would be proud if she knew? Betty."

Daniel scoffed. "Enough already Mom."

"Why don't you call her?"

Daniel didn't answer. He knew he was being a first class schmuck avoiding Betty but it just seemed easier than the alternative and admitting that to his mother made him feel like a coward.

"Daniel, you didn't answer me," Claire reminded him after a minute of silence.

"I thought it was rhetorical." Daniel replied coolly.

"Don't be coy Darling, it doesn't suit you." Claire sipped her water.

Just then the waiter arrived with their lunches. He was thankful for the interruption and hopeful that maybe the food would be a distraction and they could drop this conversation.

"So?" she asked as soon as the waiter left and Daniel realized how unrealistic that hope was.

"Call her and say what, exactly…" Daniel wondered and then he added almost mockingly, "I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye but I was too heartbroken to face you?"

"Well that's a start," Claire smiled.

"Mom, get real. Calling her would be worse than just leaving it. What would be the point? We'd fix this rift just so we can make a bunch of empty promises to keep in touch which we all know are a sham. No thanks. A clean break is definitely for the best." Daniel took a mouthful of food even though his appetite was gone completely.

"Best for whom, Darling? You are miserable and Betty thinks you hate her."

"I'm not miserable. I'm fine. I'm focused on my future now and excited about school."

Claire sighed, shook her head, and took a mouthful of her salad.

"What?" He wanted to ignore her but her look of disappointment in him was more than he could handle.

Her tone when she answered was far less sympathetic than it had been. "Fine, you're not miserable but you _are_ being selfish and Betty deserves more from you after all you've been through together. If you insist on living in your own little world of denial, that's your choice. But suck it up and be the man she needs you to be. Wish her well on her new job. Say a proper goodbye to her if you never intend on speaking to her after that. Just don't saddle her with this loose end thinking the person who has meant so much to her for the past four years—"

"I think you're exaggerating how Betty feels Mom," Daniel interrupted.

Claire shook her head assuredly. "I'm not. And don't interrupt you mother, Daniel." She started again. "Don't saddle her with this guilt, letting her think she ruined your friendship simply because she chose to go after her dreams rather than stay here so she didn't disappoint you. Is that really the way you want to leave things with her?"

She was dead right and he hated it. Sometime during that rant his guilt had morphed into full-fledged shame. He did need to call Betty. As bad as it was that he hadn't had the balls to say goodbye, allowing Betty to feel guilty because she was thinking it was all her fault was cruel. He might be a selfish coward but he wasn't cruel.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Claire was eating and Daniel was pushing the food around his plate with his fork. The thought of taking a mouthful made him gag; he was sure it would taste like cardboard right now.

"I don't have her number," Daniel said softly as a pathetic attempt to explain himself.

"That is an excuse, and not even a very good one. I think I might know where you can get it."

"Do you have it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Claire nodded lightly and reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. On it she'd written out Betty's new phone number, cell number, email and mailing addresses.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Thorough," he smirked.

She shrugged. "Just hopeful, Darling."


	3. Grievances in the Sand

Daniel dreaded the phone call to Betty. He knew now that it needed to be done but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

For one, he wasn't really sure what to say. How would he explain his silence for the two weeks before she left and the almost four weeks since?

For another, he wasn't completely sure how Betty would react. Sure, she was the most forgiving person he'd ever met but he'd been pretty awful. And although, deep down he knew Betty would never hold a grudge against him and he was fairly certain she'd get past this because that's just the kind of person she was, it was one thing knowing it in theory and quite another having to actually face the music. Besides, Betty was never one to mince words with him about what a dork he was being so the music was probably going to be a little unpleasant initially.

Daniel placed his phone on the kitchen counter beside the paper with Betty's numbers on it and stared at it for a minute. He paced back and forth a few times, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and then he stopped and picked up the phone, hastily pressing a few buttons as if he'd instantly gained the nerve. He held it in his hand for a moment mid-dial and then disconnected, placing it down on the counter again. He may have gained the nerve but he lost it again as quickly as it had come. He took another couple of paces in front of the counter and then the phone rang, startling him so badly he actually jumped. He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the display. It was Alexis.

"Way to go dipwad, Mom told me you forgot Mother's Day," she said as soon as Daniel answered.

"It's nice to speak to you too, Alexis," Daniel replied sarcastically. "I thought you called her early this morning, how do you know about that?"

"I had to call her for something else this evening. And besides, the woman gave birth to me, nursed me, and nurtured me into a productive, self assured woman and mother. I'm not allowed to speak to her more than once on her special day?"

"Actually, I think you're forgetting she nurtured you into a man," Daniel remarked a little snidely.

There was some dead air and Daniel immediately felt guilty. "Sorry," he mumbled barely audibly. So why are you calling me, was it just to rub in the fact that I forgot?"

"Well, that is definitely a bonus, I'll admit. But the real reason I called was to make sure you're alright."

"I think we have a bad connection. I almost thought I heard you say you called to make sure I was alright."

"Very funny. You're my brother, of course I'm concerned about you." Alexis sounded a little offended.

"I'm fine. Why would you be concerned?"

"Mom told me you quit Mode?"

"Yeah." Daniel leaned back against the counter. "A few of weeks ago. Your phone call is…fashionably late."

"And you went back to school?" she questioned.

"Actually, I start in the fall," he corrected her.

"Danny, you barely made it through the first time. What on earth would possess you to do that to yourself again?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. For your information I'm going back for some graduate courses," he explained.

"Yeah, Mom told me. And she said something about wanting to carve something out for yourself, without the Meade name."

"That sounds about right," Daniel agreed.

There was a brief pause. "Are you having a breakdown or something?"

"Alexis I'm in the middle of something right now so if you called just to insult me I have better things to do than to stand here and listen to it." He was getting annoyed.

"Relax Daniel. I didn't mean it as an insult. I just wonder why you feel the need to branch out on your own all of a sudden. I mean, we're Meades, it's who we are. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed of it. It's just that I've spent my whole life expecting things because I'm Daniel Meade. I've never even tried to work for anything. We were parachuted into jobs we didn't earn just because of our last name. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Hey! Maybe _you_ were, but some of us actually studied our way through college, graduated at the top of our class, and worked like a dog on a fledgling publication to prove ourselves to Dad. All the while _not_ bedding every skinny tramp that crossed our path" she reminded him. "So no, it doesn't bother me quite as much. But I can kind of see your perspective."

"Thanks," Daniel said insincerely. "And Hudson was hardly "fledgling"."

"Well it wasn't Mode. Look Danny, I kind of get where you're coming from and I admire you for it," she said sincerely.

"Really?" Daniel was cautious.

"Yes really. Is it such a shocker that I might be supportive?"

"No. Thanks." He meant it that time.

"So what were you in the middle of?" Alexis asked.

"What?" Daniel was confused.

"You said you were in the middle of something and that if I just called to insult you, you didn't have time for it," she reminded him.

"Oh right. Nothing." Daniel didn't feel like getting into it with anyone, he sure wasn't about to open up to Alexis.

"Come on Daniel, you made it sound like a huge deal that I was interrupting you."

"It's not a big deal. I was about to make a phone call, that's all."

"To Betty?" she asked.

"God, does Mom tell you everything?" Daniel wondered slightly annoyed and making a mental note not to share information with his mother anymore. Not that he'd really volunteered this tidbit.

"Almost." Alexis sounded smug.

"Yes. If you must know, I was about to call Betty."

"Well good luck with that. After what you did, you're going to need to strap on the brass balls to talk to her."

"Is that supposed to be helpful?"

"I'm joking. Come on Daniel, this is Betty we're talking about. She might be pissed but if anyone would forgive you she would."

"Yeah, well…I hope you're right."

"You really are nervous aren't you?" Alexis sounded a little surprised and intrigued. There was a brief pause before she exclaimed with utter surprise, "Oh my God, you have a crush on Betty!"

Perhaps his mother didn't tell her everything.

"I don't have a _crush_ on Betty." Daniel practically scoffed but not because of what was implied, more because "crush" didn't even come close to accurately describing the intensity of his feelings.

"Oh Danny, don't deny it. I can hear it in your voice. I have to say, I knew Betty was special the moment I met her but I did not suspect she'd steal your heart." Alexis was definitely amused.

"Are you finished?" Daniel asked.

"So it's true?"

"I don't have a crush. I'm not in sixth grade," Daniel corrected her. "I care about Betty a lot. She's probably my best friend."

"Or she was until you acted like a jackass," Alexis reminded him.

"Okay, I'm really ready to hang up now. Isn't it late there?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Alexis chuckled. "I'll get off the phone so you can make your call. And honestly, I hope everything works out with Betty," she said sincerely.

After hanging up with Alexis, Daniel was more determined than ever to make the phone call so before he'd had a chance to think too much about it he dialed Betty's number.

"Hello…" She answered with her typical chirpy tone and Daniel realized that would probably disappear the instant she realized who was on the other end.

His throat was suddenly dry and his brain momentarily went blank.

"Hello?" she responded again.

He cleared his throat. "Uh…hi Betty?"

"Daniel!" She sounded a little stunned.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you?"

"Fine. Good. You?" She was coolly polite.

"I'm good."

There was an ugly awkward pause and Daniel wished he'd planned out what he was going to say a little better.

"Listen Betty, I…uh…" he was about to apologize and then he heard voices in the background. "Um…do you have a few minutes?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"Oh, I just thought I heard voices."

"Oh. No, that's just the television," she explained. "I'm still getting used to the different shows on here so I was kind of just channel surfing. But I'm sure you didn't call to discuss British network scheduling," she said, bringing them back to the point.

"Uh…no." He took a deep breath. "Betty I'm really sorry. I've been behaving like such an ass."

There was silence from the other end and Daniel wondered if Betty was sitting on her sofa in stoic annoyance waiting for more of an explanation or if maybe they'd lost the connection.

"Betty? Are you still there?" he asked.

"Yes."

Definitely stoic annoyance.

"Um…so I called to apologize. I don't know why I was acting like I was," he lied. "But I shouldn't have. I should have said goodbye properly. It's just, it was really hard, you know?"

She was quiet for a moment and then he heard her sniff before she responded her voice full of emotion.

"It was hard for me too. You have no idea how hard. And I really needed your support, not your cold shoulder."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I was leaving everything I knew behind me Daniel – my job, my friends, my _family_. And you wouldn't be in the same room with me; you wouldn't even speak to me. You really hurt me."

Daniel eased himself into the kitchen chair, feeling horrible. Facing the music was worse than he'd imagined. It would have been much more bearable if she was just angry and tore a strip off of him. The pain in her voice was intolerable. He'd been so consumed by his own pathetic heartbreak he hadn't really considered how much his silence had hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he said again softly, trying to maintain his composure.

There was another awkward silence. When Daniel felt like he'd gotten control of his emotions he spoke again.

"Look Betty, I was only thinking about myself; I know that. It was stupid and if I could do it all over again I would behave differently."

"Well…" she paused for a moment and when she spoke again her voice had lost its edge. "I definitely should have told you about the job sooner. I didn't handle that well, either. I guess I was afraid to because I didn't want to let you down."

"It's your life Betty. You need to do what's right for you. I know that…now." There was another brief pause. "I know I'm a little late but, uh, congratulations and good luck."

"Thanks." She chuckled a little.

"So…um…does this mean we can be friends again?" he asked cautiously.

"I never thought we weren't friends Daniel. I was just hoping you'd realize that."

"Yeah well, I kind of took your quitting a little personally, I guess."

"Really? I hadn't notice." she teased and then she added more seriously, "I never meant for that to happen. You've been the best boss and the best friend in the world these past four years." Her voice cracked a little at the end and Daniel felt his own emotions swelling so he took a deep breath.

"Hey, but it's not over right? We can keep in touch – email, call, things like that," Daniel said feeling every ounce the hypocrite. Wasn't he the one who hated empty promises?

"Absolutely," she agreed.

"So tell me about the job," he said getting up and walking over to his more comfortable sofa.

"It's good," she answered very restrained.

"That's convincing," he said sarcastically.

"No, it's good. It's great, really. I just don't want to be overly enthusiastic and come across insensitive, you know?"

"Betty, I'm happy for you. Really. I want to hear all about it. And you don't need to pretend you're not excited to spare my feelings." He was really trying to be sincere.

"Okay."

So she proceeded to tell him in all her enthusiastic glory about the new job. She told him all about the challenges and the things she loved. She told him the plans and ideas she had for articles. She spoke about Lindsey Dunne and how empowering he was as a boss. She told him all about the staff she and Lindey had already hired. Some of them had started already and others were starting in a week or two.

"I was interviewing people. Me. Like I was the boss," Daniel could practically hear the smile and he had to grin in response.

"Well you are the boss," he reminded her with amusement.

"Yeah, I guess I am." She sounded like she was still in awe about it all.

It wasn't as hard to be happy for her as he thought when he heard the excitement in her voice.

He was overwhelmed with emotion for a moment. "I'm really proud of you Betty."

"Thanks."

And Daniel told her about Mode, although she already knew he had quit. But he also told her about school and his desire to do something on his own merit, which she hadn't known. His mother was right, she was proud of him - he could tell from her enthusiasm and her tone.

"But why did you quit Mode so soon if your program doesn't start until September?" she asked him near the end of the conversation.

"There were a couple of reasons. First of all, I realized all your hard work had paid off. You were finally getting what you dreamed of. It made me realize that I'd never worked for anything – like you - but Wilhelmina had. She'd been working her ass off for years before I came along and my father just passed her over for promotion without a second thought. She was capable, experienced and qualified and yet he gave the job to me instead. I'd have been pissed off too. Maybe all the schemes and backstabbing might not have happened if she'd been given the job she probably should have had in the first place. I figured since I was the only thing standing in her way it was time for me to move."

"Wow. Empathizing with Wilhelmina – what has come over you?" she teased. "What was the other reason?"

He hesitated a little before answering. "Well…I guess Mode just wasn't the same without you there."

"Oh."

She seemed to be rendered a little speechless by that and Daniel didn't want her to think she was responsible for his life altering decisions, even though indirectly she was.

"It was time Betty. The latest issue was out and there wasn't anything hanging over my head, Wilhelmina and I had made peace or at least a bit of a truce when she didn't rat out Tyler, and I guess I was motivated by you chasing your dreams and I didn't want to fall back into that same old rut just because it was comfortable. I think I was afraid if I stayed any longer I might change my mind about school and never end up going."

"I could see that," she said supportively.

He glanced down at his watch and realized they'd been talking for over and hour.

"Wow Betty, it must be really late for you."

"Yeah, I guess it is time for me to get to bed."

"I'm sorry I kept you so long. I didn't realize…"

"No, it's okay. I'm really glad you called. I really missed you Daniel."

Daniel felt a lump in his throat so he swallowed but it didn't seem to help.

"I really missed you too Betty."

They spoke for another few minutes making the promises to keep in touch that Daniel knew they would except he actually felt hopeful that they weren't just empty ones. His relationship with Betty was intact and she seemed genuinely happy to reconnect. He hung up feeling better than he had in weeks.

* * *

><p>"So did you call Betty?" Claire asked the next day when she called Daniel.<p>

He was sitting on his sofa again, only this time in his comfy sweats watching television.

"You don't waste anytime, do you?" Daniel asked, muting the set.

"I'm just concerned, Darling. Betty is a very special woman who has meant a lot to this entire family. I would hate for her to be feeling guilty over a rift between the two of you."

"That's all it is?" Daniel asked suspiciously.

"Of course. What else would it be?"

"I don't know."

"So did you?" she asked again.

"Yes." He didn't elaborate.

"Yes. That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?" She sounded a little exasperated.

"What would you really like to know Mom?"

"Did you tell her how you feel?"

"I told her I was sorry. I told her I was excited about going back to school. I told her it was scary quitting Mode. So yes, I guess I told her how I feel." He was being deliberately evasive.

"Not those feelings Daniel, your other feelings. Your feelings for her."

"Of course not."

"Oh." She was obviously disappointed. "Why not?"

"Why would I? For one, I don't even really know what those feelings are. For another, what would be the point? She lives on the other side of the ocean in case you've forgotten."

"So how did you leave it then?"

"We just promised to be in touch, that's all." Daniel replied.

"And you're alright with that?" Claire didn't sound convinced that he would be.

"I have to be Mom. What choice do I have?"

She didn't answer that question but it was rhetorical anyway.

"So you're just going to go on with your separate lives and talk on the phone once a week?" Her tone was slightly incredulous.

"Or email, or text. I don't know. We didn't get into specifics like that."

"Are you sure that's a good idea Dear? What happens when you're talking one week and she tells you about some wonderful guy she's met?"

"I'll deal with that when it happens. Anyway, maybe I'll have met someone myself by then and it won't be an issue." Daniel was hopeful.

"Doubtful. You actually need to get out once in a while in order to meet people Daniel," Claire reminded him.

"Yeah well, I think I will start getting out more," Daniel said convincingly.

* * *

><p>It turns out the only empty promise that was made was Daniel's resolution to get out more. He half intended to. His mother was right; he'd never meet anyone sitting alone in his apartment. But he was finished with shallow flings and casual physical relationships and right now he couldn't imagine it would be possible to find anyone that made him feel the way Betty did. Instead he threw himself into his prep course, started going to the gym more often (he was feeling more energetic all of a sudden) and avoided answering his mother's calls if she phoned during possible date nights.<p>

He should have realized Betty wouldn't let them fall out of touch. She was as faithful a friend from the other side of the ocean as she had been when they worked together. She called him regularly to give him updates on the magazine, to ask how his courses were going, and just to chat. Sometimes she would even ask for his opinion on the magazine. She would text him regularly too. And every time they spoke she bugged him constantly about getting set up on Skype.

"It's free and easy to set up. It's almost like being in the same room. I can't believe you haven't done it yet with Alexis and D.J. being in France for so long."

"Well it's not like I always want to be in the same room as Alexis anyway," Daniel joked as he threw his plate of leftover Chinese food into the microwave for dinner.

"Come on Daniel, seriously. Phone calls are expensive unless I use the calling card and then there are so many numbers to dial I'm getting 'phone fingers'," she complained.

" 'Phone fingers'?" Daniel was amused.

"Yes 'phone fingers'. You know, when your finger joints get sore from all the button pressing," she explained.

"Let me get this straight. You can text thirty words a minute with no ill affects but you can't dial a couple of numbers without getting 'phone fingers'?"

"It's a completely different finger action. I just want you hooked up on Skype. It's better. Then I can see your beautiful face."

That sounded flirty. Was that flirty? That could be flirty and the hope it inspired was enough to convince him.

"All right, all right. I'll set it up. Just give me some time to figure out how," he requested.

"Ask your mother, she Skypes all the time. Your Mom can set you up with the lastest technology," Betty said only half teasing him.


	4. Timing is Everything

A few weeks later, the launch of the first issue of Betty's magazine was rapidly approaching. It was only about a week away and Daniel could tell that she was increasingly excited and anxious each time he spoke to her.

"You know it's going to be great, right?" He encouraged her as they chatted on Skype one afternoon. She'd been sounding particularly nervous about it tonight.

"I'm glad you think so." She smiled feebly.

It was late evening for Betty. She'd just gotten home from work and was still eating whatever she'd grabbed for supper when he'd Skyped her. She didn't seem quite herself tonight. Daniel noticed she was looking tired, probably from all the long days, but he'd seen her overworked before and that wasn't it.

"I don't think so, I know so," he said confidently. "You are good at this. You just need to trust your abilities a little more."

She smiled a little more sincerely. "You're my biggest cheerleader, you know that?"

He shrugged. "You have lots of cheerleaders."

"Yeah, you're just all in New York," she sighed. "I'm just feeling a little…alone lately."

That was what it was; she was feeling homesick or at least missing some moral support, especially as the launch approached.

"Maybe Christina will go to your launch?" Daniel offered, hoping that would pick her up a little.

"Maybe, but it's hard for her to come from Scotland midweek because of William, especially since Stuart has to work."

Daniel nodded, but quietly he wondered if he could help.

Betty's family was so important to her, and this was such a huge moment, it was a shame she wouldn't have them there to share it with. Maybe he could send Hilda, Justin and Ignacio to London for the launch. The launch party was a Thursday night so her family would need to take off at least Thursday and Friday. But he wasn't stupid and he'd witnessed the Suarez pride in Betty. It might not be that easy to convince Ignacio.

After much cajoling, persuading and practically begging, Daniel thought he'd lost and that Ignacio would never be convinced. Just as he was about to give up he remembered that his mother had said someone needed to go to London on business. It wouldn't normally have been him since he was very hands off of Meade, especially lately, but Ignacio didn't know that. So using that excuse he assured Ignacio that the Meade jet was heading in that direction anyway.

"You'll just be catching a ride. Think of it as hitchhiking, except it's a jet not a car," he reasoned.

Finally Ignacio conceded.

Hilda and Justin didn't even need convincing, they were onboard instantly, and Bobby just needed to be reminded that it was far more about Betty and that she deserved to have her family there to celebrate such an amazing event.

Bobby was persuaded, Betty on the other hand…

"Daniel, you can't do that," she insisted the next time they were on Skype.

"Of course I can. I want to Betty. This is the biggest night of your career so far, why wouldn't you want your family there?" Daniel insisted.

"I do, of course I do, but it's too much."

"It's the Meade jet. It's not a huge deal." He noticed she still wasn't smiling. "Look, would it make you feel better if I said I need to come to London anyway to look after some ModeUK stuff?" he asked.

"That would be a lie," she accused.

"No, it's really not. My Mom said there are some issues. The board of directors is concerned about some funny numbers and someone has to go and check it out with the accountant. It might as well be me."

"But you're not even really involved with Meade anymore," Betty reminded him.

"Not officially, but I still own part, and technically I am a Meade, so I think I qualify, don't you?" he grinned. "If I have to go to London anyway then your family is really doing me a favour because I don't have to fly alone and I'm not chartering the Meade jet for just one person."

"Your logic astounds me," she smiled, obviously convinced.

* * *

><p>"Oh my gosh!" Justin looked around in awe as settled himself into a luxurious, tan coloured leather seat, near the back of the plane. He leaned back into it and closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sure heaven is like this except it probably doesn't have seats this soft. Feel this leather," he said to Bobby and Hilda.<p>

He looked around the small jet as Hilda and Bobby settled into the two seats facing him. In the direction he was looking, closer to the front of the plane near the cockpit, there was an L-shaped sofa with an oak boardroom table in front of it meant for in flight meetings. On the wall opposite the sofa was a large flat screen television probably meant for presentations.

"Did you get a load of the size of that flat screen at the front? The man has a bigger tv in his plane than we do in our house." Bobby said quietly to Hilda gesturing his head backward to ward the front of the plane.

"It's probably just a little over-compensation. Something you don't need to worry about Babe." Hilda whispered, trying to make him feel better.

"Mom. Inappropriate." Justin said with a look of disgust.

He immediately stood back up.

"Where are you going?" Hilda asked him.

"Well, first I'm leaving so I don't accidentally overhear anything else. And second, are you kidding? I'm going to check the whole thing out. There's an entire section behind this curtain." Justin gestured to a doorway with a curtain hung in front of it.

"Justin, don't be nosy, it's rude."

"Rich people want you to look at their stuff, that's why they spend the money on it."

"Justin…" she hissed at him as he swept the curtain aside.

"It's ok Hilda." Daniel said from behind her.

She turned back quickly, embarrassed that Daniel had heard their conversation. Justin didn't need any more encouragement; he stepped into the back section.

He looked around a little in amazement. There was a small bed on the left that could be partitioned off by another curtain. There was a kitchenette on the right with a microwave, a mini fridge and a small wet bar. At the very back was a bathroom but not the typical airplane lavatory. This one was big enough you couldn't sit on the toilet and wash your hands at the same time. And it was luxurious. Justin walked in and ran his hand over the marble vanity slowly and in awe. Then he turned quickly with the excitement of wanting to share what he'd found.

"Oh my gosh, you have to see this." He stuck his head back into the main area. "There's a bed back here."

"Of course there is." Hilda murmured quietly to Bobby with her eyebrows raised and her implication obvious. "I'm surprised there's not a hot tub."

"And you should see the bathroom. And there's a little bar..." Justin added with excitement.

"I gotta see." Hilda stood up, curiosity getting the best of her, and followed Justin into the back.

When they returned, Bobby had moved to the sofa that was facing the flat screen and was examining the remote.

Ignacio came aboard and looked around, obviously a little overwhelmed.

"Grandpa, you didn't need to worry about the pit stop before we left. You should see the bathroom in here."

"Don't worry Justin, it's a long flight. I'm sure I'll get a chance to see it…more than a few times." Ignacio commented and Justin made a face. "What? You brought it up." Ignacio reminded him.

"Very nice plane you have here, Daniel." Ignacio commented politely.

"Thanks Mr. Suarez. But it's not really mine, it belongs to Meade Publications." Daniel answered a little self-consciously.

"Don't you own Meade?" he asked and Daniel nodded sheepishly. "Then I'd say it's yours, son." Ignacio commented casually as he took a seat in the chair Justin had been sitting in earlier.

"We're taking off soon so we should get buckled up." Daniel said as he took the seat facing Ignacio.

Hilda, Bobby and Justin sat in the group of four seats across the aisle from Daniel and Ignacio.

About forty minutes later they were in the air and had reached cruising altitude. The co-pilot opened the cockpit door.

"Mr. Meade? You can use the electronics now. And feel free to move around." He said.

Daniel smiled and thanked him, and got up to get his laptop from where it was stowed in a compartment near the front.

"I'm sorry, I have some work to do." Daniel apologized to the group as he returned to his seat and pulled out his laptop. "But feel free to make yourself at home. There are drinks and food in the back and you can watch a movie or something if you like. You can even have a nap in the back if you want."

* * *

><p>Betty met them at the arrivals gate literally hopping up and down the moment she laid eyes on them.<p>

"Aaahh…Aaahh…." she squealed as she ran - arms wide open - to greet them. She knew it wasn't very dignified but she couldn't contain her excitement.

"I'm so happy to see you guys! Papi, I missed you so much." She pulled Ignacio into a hug first, her face practically bursting from the size of her smile.

Feeling the safe arms of her dad around her for the first time in too long made her throat close up. She was trying desperately to contain her emotion but the tears welled up a little. She blinked them back.

"We're happy to see you too, Mija." Ignacio was smiling almost as hard as she was.

"Hilda, Bobby, Justin, I can't believe you guys could spare the time." Betty grabbed them each in turn, Justin last and after the hug she held his face in her hands and said "You've grown so much."

"Aunt Betty you've only been gone two months," Justin said with slight exasperation.

"I know but still, look at you." Betty looked at him affectionately. "I'm so glad you tacked your visit on to the end of this. We are going to have so much fun!"

Daniel was standing a little off in the background with a huge smile on his face. She looked up and felt such a surge of gratitude. It was hard to accept such generosity from him but with the launch only a day away, she almost felt like it would have been hollow if she had to face it alone. It was a thousand times better that they were all here. It was funny he realized that even before she did.

She walked over to him. "Thank you," she said softly thankful she was still wearing heels from work so she could easily wrap her arms around his neck. She hoped that one small hug could convey everything she was feeling.

"You're welcome." He returned the hug warmly.

Her heart was completely full. She breathed in the too familiar scent of his cologne and it triggered a wave of nostalgia. Images of the hours they'd spent together, working late, rushing for deadlines, and putting out fires flooded her mind. A past that seemed a lifetime ago, a future that was so uncertain, and just sweet relief that her family was here was more than she could handle and the tears fell. She couldn't have stopped them if she'd wanted too. She clung tightly to him trying to get control of her emotions, until finally she took a deep breath but it came out as a faint sob.

"Betty?" He pulled back a little so he could see her face.

"I'm sorry." She released him, embarrassed about her breakdown, and slipped the fingers of both hands under the rims of her glasses to wipe her eyes; Hilda handed her a tissue. "I'm just really glad you're all here," she said turning around to face them.

Ignacio smiled gently and put an understanding hand on her shoulder. Justin nudged his way in and wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned his head against hers. They stood silently for a moment.

"So are we going to grab something to eat somewhere?" Bobby asked seemingly oblivious to the somber state and totally changing the climate. Everyone looked at him; Hilda smacked him on the arm. "What?" he asked puzzled.

Betty grinned at him, thankful for the mood breaker. "Oh. I don't know. I kind of assumed you guys would be tired. It's almost one in the morning New York time."

"I'm not tired. I slept on the plane." Ignacio commented.

"Yeah. And he hogged the bed so the rest of us had to sleep in our seats," Justin complained.

"The bed?" Betty was confused.

"Yeah. You should see this plane Aunt Betty. It's fabulous." Justin's eyes were sparkling.

"You have a bed on your plane?" Betty turned to Daniel and asked with her eyebrows raised.

"It's to help prevent jet lag. It's not what you're thinking," he defended.

She nodded with a smile.

"It's not." he insisted.

"Okay, alright, it's not." She raised her hands in surrender and then changed the subject. "So about diner, how about pizza? We could grab an extra large and have it at my place," she suggested.

"Pizza?" Justin scrunched his nose up with a little distaste.

"There's nothing wrong with pizza Justin," Hilda said.

"Uh…I have to check-in to my hotel and I don't want to intrude with your catching up." Daniel started to say.

"Really?" Betty was extremely disappointed.

She knew he had stuff to do but she hadn't seen him for so long and to her it wasn't an intrusion at all to have him hang out with her family.

"Well…" he hesitated for half a second which Betty took as her window.

"You have to have dinner with us Daniel. Please. I want to catch up with you too. It's not an intrusion at all, is it?" she asked everyone and they agreed.

"Maybe I could check-in and we could have dinner at the hotel. It has a great restaurant."

"Oh…" Betty suddenly felt awkward. Daniel always seemed to forget the money was an issue for her family. Hilda and Bobby had a new mortgage and they were always concerned about money for Justin's acting classes and workshops. And Papi made money but she hadn't wanted him spending it on this trip either which was exactly the reason she'd insisted they could all fit in her tiny flat rather than stay at a hotel.

There was probably no way her family could afford even the appetizers at the restaurant in the hotel where Daniel Meade was likely staying but she didn't want to embarrass them or him by saying so.

"How about we get Daniel checked-in at his hotel and then we see what's around there?"

Everyone agreed so they took a couple of cabs over to Daniel's hotel. On the drive, Betty was desperately seeking out affordable eating establishments so that she could have an alternative to offer.

Daniel was staying at a beautiful hotel in the business district of London. The lobby was modern and elegant. A long, two-sided, gas fireplace – the kind that looked like it was burning glass crystals – was situated in a marble wall that separated the bright check-in area from a lounge. Directly beside the lounge was an extremely elegant looking restaurant, brightly lit with huge chandeliers and hurricane candles at every table. Tuxedo clad waiters strode staidly about carrying silver trays over their heads. Betty could tell almost instantly that it wouldn't be a practical choice for dinner.

Across from the restaurant was the registration desk and the concierge - two separate marble topped desks that stretched across the length of lobby.

While Daniel checked-in, Ignacio, Justin and Bobby sat on a sofa in the lobby reading brochures and pamphlets of things to do in London. Betty and Hilda looked at the menu posted outside the restaurant. The features looked incredible but they weren't listing the prices which Betty knew from experience meant it was more than her family could afford.

Daniel walked over to Betty and Hilda. "So, about dinner…" he started to say.

Betty grabbed him gently by the elbow. "Uh, Hilda, can I talk to Daniel for a second? Do you mind?"

Hilda shook her head. "No. I'll just see if the guys have any idea what they want to eat." She turned and walked back to the sofa.

"Daniel, I don't think my family would be very, um…comfortable in this restaurant," she nodded to the elegant dining room as she released his elbow, hoping she get her point.

"I know Betty. I didn't mean this one. There's another restaurant through the lounge. It's more like a pub."

"There is?" She looked over and tried to see. "How do you know that?"

"I read some information about the hotel on this new fangled devise called the internet." He teased with a grin.

"Oh." She felt a little stupid.

"Come on. Let's go take a look at the menu and see if you think it's better," he suggested.

She nodded. It was indeed better and so they stayed and had dinner there. But first they took all of their luggage up to Daniel's suite so they didn't have to drag it into the pub for dinner.

Daniel's suite was huge and as elegant as the lobby. Decorated in shades of beige and hues of dark red, a massive living area with two sofas and a couple of matching arm chairs faced a fireplace with a large flat screen television mounted into the wall above it. To the side was a set of double French doors which separated the living area from the sleeping area. Betty could see there was a washroom off of the living area and she suspected there was probably an even bigger one off of the bedroom. Off to the other side of the room was a wet bar for entertaining.

They dropped their luggage off and headed back down to the restaurant.

They were discussing the sleeping arrangements while they ate.

"So I was thinking that Papi and Justin could take my double, Bobby and Hilda can have the pull-out and I'll sleep on the floor."

"The floor!" Hilda was appalled. "You can't sleep on the floor Betty."

"I have a foam thing," Betty reasoned but Hilda still didn't look impressed.

"Aww. I have to sleep with Grandpa, seriously? He snores." Justin complained.

"Hey, you're no perfect bed buddy either pal. You're always kicking in your sleep," Ignacio told him.

"Well I'm open for any other suggestions but I don't think there are any," Betty smiled imagining what might come up.

That started a humorous discussion of musical beds with every possible and impossible scenario. Finally someone suggested they could just all crash in Daniel's suite because it was probably big enough.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea. Well maybe not _everyone_. But certainly a couple of you could stay so that you don't all have to cram into Betty's apartment," he was serious.

"Daniel, we were just joking. That's such an imposition," Betty said. "Besides we're used to cramming. Remember after the fire? We've done it before for a lot longer than a few days."

"Well Bobby hasn't," Justin reminded them.

"Yeah, I missed that delightful moment of family bonding," Bobby said sarcastically.

"I'm serious Betty. There's loads of room, I think. He pulled out his iPhone and started searching something. "Yeah, look, there are two pull-out sofas and two bathrooms."

He turned his phone around and showed the layout of his room off of the hotel's website.

"We couldn't impose like that," Betty argued firmly.

"Hey, speak for yourself," Justin commented and everyone laughed.

"Well, if you're sure…" Daniel said hesitantly.

"She's not sure. She has no idea what she's talking about. I think it's temporary delirium. In fact, I think it's probably contagious and it's a very bad idea for all of us to be in such close proximity. It's a health hazard." Justin gave Betty the evil eye.

Daniel laughed at Justin's melodrama and started to play along. "I think so too. Justin I think it would be wise if you slept on my sofa."

Justin raised his eyebrows hopefully, looking at his mother and Betty. "Can I?"

"Daniel…" Betty looked apologetically at him, feeling like Justin had needled his way in.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it. It'll be fun, Justin and I hangin' together, right Justin? Right before we bunk down we can catch the day's highlights on London's equivalent of ESP—" He seemed to notice Justin's blank look and modified his statement. "Uh, I mean the celebrity gossip on TMZ or whatever they have here." Justin brightened immediately.

"Mom?" Justin looked at Hilda who in turn looked at Betty who just shrugged.

"Well. If that's what you really want to do…" Hilda was using her guilt tone.

"Hmm. Let me think. Do I want to stay crammed in a tiny one bedroom apartment with five people and one washroom or practically by myself in a luxury suite with my own washroom and my own tv? Tough choice."

Daniel smiled, looking pleased that Justin was so thrilled. His warmth and generosity tonight made Betty feel a twinge of something she couldn't quite define. He really was sweet sometimes.

"That is, if you don't mind. I know you were looking forward to staying together." He looked at Betty.

"Together schmether," Justin voiced his opinion. "I'm staying with Aunt Betty for two weeks after everyone else leaves, remember? Besides, I'll see them in the daytime. At night I live in luxury."

"On a pull-out sofa," Betty reminded him.

"Definitely on the sofa, the king bed is mine," Daniel smiled.

"Whatever, at least it's without Grandpa's snoring," Justin said.

"Unless…There are two pull-outs," Daniel reminded everyone looking at Ignacio.

"Obviously my snoring is not welcome around Justin," Ignacio replied.

"I don't think Papi should sleep on a pull-out anyway," Betty said.

"Why?" Ignacio asked looking puzzled.

Betty was a little startled that he would ask. "Well, because of…uh…your back and because…um…of your…_age_," she lowered her head and whispered the last part directly to Ignacio.

He glared at her and she noticed Daniel try to cover a chuckle with a fake cough.

"Betty's still sleeping on a silly 'foam thing' even if Justin stays here," Hilda remarked, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

"It's fine Hilda," Betty argued.

"Hey, maybe I could stay here too. It'll be a guy's thing. Then you and Betty can share the pull-out at her place," Bobby suggested to Hilda.

"Great idea Babe, except all of your stuff is in my suitcase," Hilda reminded him.

"Maybe Aunt Betty should stay here and Grandpa, Mom and Bobby can stay at her place," Justin suggested.

"But all of Betty's stuff is at her place. Besides, we can't kick her out of her own home," Ignacio argued.

"That's not a bad idea," Daniel shrugged. "I mean apart from having to get stuff and bring it here. At least you wouldn't have to sleep on the floor."

"It's not the floor, I have a foam thing," Betty argued again.

"Well that settles it then. She has to stay here," Hilda said. "I can't believe you were going to try to sleep on the floor for our whole stay."

"It's only a few nights Hilda," Betty defended, "Besides, I have a—"

" 'Foam thing'. We know." Hilda interrupted finishing her sentence and rolling her eyes. "Don't be stupid Betty, the night before your big launch party you need to get a good sleep so either you stay here or Bobby and I both will so you can at least sleep on the pull-out."

"Mom is right Aunt Betty. You can't have your picture plastered all over London's newspapers with puffy dark circles under your eyes."

Betty could tell that Hilda was serious enough to be stubborn about this so she thought about her options for a minute. It would be inconvenient to have to get some things together to stay at the hotel but on the other hand Daniel didn't know Hilda well and he hardly knew Bobby at all. Asking him to put them up didn't really seem fair.

"Ok then. I guess I'm staying here. Or at least I'm coming back here after I get some stuff." She looked at her watch. "Wow. We'd better get going then, it's getting late."

They went back up to Daniel's suite to collect their luggage and Betty took Hilda, Ignacio and Bobby back to her place while Daniel and Justin stayed at the hotel. She gave them a quick orientation to her flat and everything in it they might need, threw the stuff she would need for the next few days - including what she was wearing to the launch party – in a garment bag and took the cab back to the hotel.

Daniel had given her the extra key card so when she got back up to the room she swiped it and entered quietly. The suite was mostly dark except for a small lamp on the side table beside the sofa that they had left on for her. Betty could also see the flickering of the television through the curtains on the double French door that separated the living area from the bedroom.

Justin was already fast asleep, as well he should be, it was almost morning New York time. But she didn't know if Daniel was watching television or had just fallen asleep with it on.

She hung up her garment bag and went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. Daniel and Justin had made the couch up for her. Or maybe they called the maid to do that? That's probably what you do in a luxury hotel. Anyway, she didn't need to do anything herself and for that she was grateful because as excited as she was that her family was here, she had to work tomorrow.

She was just climbing into bed when Daniel's voice from behind startled her and she turned around.

"Sorry," he whispered, realizing he'd frightened her.

He was standing close enough she could smell his cologne again. He was considerably taller than she was. And broad…his chest was so broad. These were facts she already knew, they'd been friends for forever so it shouldn't have felt so imposing with him standing in such proximity. But her heart, still beating rapidly from being startled, didn't seem to want to slow down for some reason.

"That's okay. I thought you were asleep," she replied softly so as not to wake Justin.

"No, not yet." He looked at her in a way she couldn't read. "Are you tired?"

"I should be but I think I'm so excited because everyone is here that I'm not," she admitted.

"I'm not either and it's like…" he looked at his watch, "almost six in the morning for me. I'm really happy you let me do this Betty."

He smiled warmly, his eyes so blue in the dim light that it was almost eerie. Betty felt her stomach flip a little and that weird sensation she couldn't define again. She looked away quickly, uncomfortable with her reaction to him and hopeful she'd turned in time for him not to notice her cheeks change colour.

"We should probably get to bed though, you have to work tomorrow." He sounded funny, maybe he'd noticed something, or maybe he thought she wasn't grateful for flying her family here. Weird, uncomfortable sensations or not, he needed to know how much she appreciated it.

She put her hand on his forearm for emphasis. "Thank you Daniel. I can't tell you enough how much it means to me that my family is here."

He seemed to relax a little. "I know how important they are to you Betty. I couldn't stand the thought of you celebrating this without them when I could easily do something about it."

"It's not a small thing, flying them all the way here, putting us up in your suite. You are a really great friend."

He gazed at her for a moment as if he was thinking of something.

"What?" she asked.

"Uh…nothing. We better get to bed. You have to work tomorrow, remember?" He smiled.

"So do you," she reminded him.

"Oh yeah. I'm so sleep deprived I forgot," he joked.

He lingered for half a second and Betty could have sworn there was something he wasn't saying but he simply said goodnight and went back into the bedroom.

* * *

><p>Daniel closed the French doors behind him and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. A few minutes later he was lying in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. His body was exhausted but his brain wouldn't shut off.<p>

He almost told her. The words were on the tip of his tongue when she looked up at him so sweetly with her fresh face buffed clean and ready for bed and those beautiful brown eyes looking at him with such sincerity. God, she was so ingenuous, so unassuming it made his heart ache. He'd never met anyone who was as authentic as Betty. The way she'd averted her eyes and looked bashful, almost flirtatious, when he'd smiled at her was almost more than he could handle. And then that innocent touch on his arm that felt so warm and electric. His exhaustion had weakened his defenses, and the dimly lit room was creating an almost perfect atmosphere to admit his feelings. For a fleeting moment he envisioned telling her, and then holding her, and maybe even convincing her she didn't need to sleep on the pull-out. But, of course that it would have been the epitome of selfish. She didn't need to be confused right before the most important night of her career and regardless of how she felt in return, his confession would definitely throw her for a loop.

Would he have admitted that he loved her or would he have kept it vague, saying something about changed feelings? The "L" word was intense and would probably frighten her but it was the truth, he realized. There was no denying it anymore. However confused he was before she left New York, and however ridiculous and difficult it might be to figure things out with their lives in completely different corners of the world, he knew now that he loved Betty, and he wanted to tell her.

He sighed and rolled over. That was irrelevant anyway, there was no way he was saying anything to her right now. He needed to wait for a better time.


	5. Dream Big

_Thanks everyone for the great feedback.  
><em>

_First of all, I need to give a shout out 'thank you' to Jen for pointing out my screwed up time zone timing, and thank her for kindly and graciously calling it a 'small thing' even though we all know most of the chapter was based on it and it was pretty HUGE. I apologize and promise to do better in future chapters. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I probably just wasn't if I'm honest about it. _

_Anyway, I'm pushing past that and hopefully you can to. Here is Chapter 5._

* * *

><p>As Daniel made his way into the ModeUK office building very early the next morning, he reflected on the fact that if there was anything to thank that backstabbing weasel Connor Owens for, it was that he was more skeptical now about taking people at their word, especially if they were in charge of the money of his family's business. He was going to take this task seriously, and he wasn't going to blindly believe every explanation that was handed to him.<p>

He'd made arrangements to meet with the head accountant first thing in the morning so he could take the rest of the day and review the numbers. If something didn't look right he was going to dissect it until he understood exactly why.

Unfortunately, at ModeUK there were several things that didn't seem to make sense to him and for which the explanation wasn't satisfactory. It had made for a long, stressful day and Daniel knew it would mean more long and stressful days ahead. He also realized that despite his previous experience with fraudulent behaviour he was far from an expert and this definitely looked like it would require some digging from someone who knew exactly what they were looking for.

When Daniel got back to the hotel suite, Betty was sitting at the desk working on her laptop.

"I thought you'd be getting ready for the party," Daniel said to her as he took off his suit jack and flung it over a chair.

She lifted her head just briefly and then focused back on the screen. "Just taking care of a few emails first. Besides, Justin is in the shower and he might be in there for eons."

He didn't reply so she looked up concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Long day," he answered feeling the weight of what all of this might mean not only to Meade but to all the people who worked at ModeUK.

"Is everything alright?"

He shrugged and got a soda out of the minibar. He didn't want to get into details that were only suspicions at this point. Besides it was her night and he didn't want to talk about Mode issues.

"You know if you don't feel like coming tonight—"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he teased.

"No, of course not. It's just you seem kind of tired, and I thought maybe you'd prefer to relax rather than—"

"Betty this is your big night, I wouldn't miss it for anything. I have to make a phone call and get ready so I don't mean to be rude but…" he indicated the bedroom.

"Yeah, sure. I have to finish this anyway," she smiled.

Daniel went into the bedroom and closed the French doors. He sat down heavily on the side of the oversized bed and pulled out his phone.

"Hey, it's me, Mom. I think we need to hire a forensic accountant."

* * *

><p>"Wow, Aunt Betty you look amazing," Justin commented as Betty came out of the bathroom dressed for the launch.<p>

She was wearing an elegant ruby red v-neck dress that hung in a princess style down to around her knees. Her hair was back, completely off of her shoulders in an updo fastened with a gold hair clip and she wore a matching gold watch that she'd bought just for the occasion. Her "B" necklace hung around her neck and she was struggling to fasten a red and gold chain bracelet around her right wrist.

"Thanks. Could you help me Justin?" she held her arm up to him, holding the bracelet out with the other hand.

He tilted his head - examining her outfit critically - and then shook it. "Nuh uh. Too much bling – you're starting to look like P. Diddy. You have to loose it. It's either that or the necklace."

Betty threw her hand up to cover the necklace, slightly offended by the suggestion. "Justin, this is the necklace my mom gave me."

"Whatever, then forget the bracelet. Seriously A.B., it's the cardinal rule of fashion: remove the last accessory you put on."

She shook her head, uncertain that one small bracelet would make that much of a difference but he did know fashion better than she did. "Fine." She abandoned the bracelet.

"You look nice too," she said, admiring him in his dark grey vest with an even darker grey tie. "Nice vest."

"Thanks." Justin did a little pose and half spin. "It's Armani. Marc gave it to me from the Mode swag he picked out last month. It was too small for him. Are you finished in there?" He gestured to the bathroom.

"Yeah, help yourself."

Betty wandered over to the closet, pulled her red sling back heels out and slipped them on. She stood up and straightened her dress.

"Wow." Daniel stood between the French doors of the bedroom, and smiled approvingly. "You look…great. You're really going to charm the media."

"Thanks." Betty looked down at her dress a little bashfully, her face flushing a little.

She felt awkward for a moment when neither one of them seemed to know what to say. Then Daniel cleared his throat.

"Um, I have something for you." He sounded slightly shy.

"Really?" She was taken by surprise; he'd done so much already.

He walked over and handed her a small blue box with a tiny ribbon on it.

"It's not much, just a little present to congratulate you and wish you good luck."

"I thought flying my family here was supposed to be my gift," she said pointedly.

"It was. It _is_. I just saw this and had to get it."

"Daniel you didn't –"

"Just open it. " He looked at her with anticipation.

She took off the lid and inside was a smooth gold cuff bracelet, with three tiny butterflies engraved across the top. It was simple but elegant. She picked it up and noticed an inscription: _For the best editor in the business. Congrats and good luck. Don't forget us little people. Daniel_

"Oh Daniel..." She was moved and her throat closed up with emotion. "It's beautiful. But you really shouldn't have."

"It's just a trinket, Betty. It'll probably make your wrist green. I just saw it and thought of you. You know, because of the…um…butterflies…" his sentence faded off awkwardly.

Just a trinket to him and yet the engraving alone probably made it one of the most expensive pieces of jewelry she owned.

"That's really sweet. And look, it even goes with what I'm wearing tonight. It's perfect," she beamed, slipping it on her wrist.

Daniel's face brightened and she could tell he was pleased.

Just then Justin came out of the bathroom. "Ugh...this London humidity. Well this is the best I can do," he said with frustration as he fussed with his hair which looked, to Betty, exactly the same as when he'd gone into the bathroom.

"What's that?" he asked curiously as he noticed the bracelet.

"Daniel gave it to me. Isn't it beautiful?" Betty grinned holding up her wrist so he could see it better.

"It is," he agreed nodding. He paused briefly. "But you're not wearing it tonight are you?" he asked cautiously.

"Of course Justin," she answered, appalled that he would think otherwise.

"P. Diddy, Aunt Betty." He raised his eyebrows for extra emphasis.

"Justin, it's fine." She raised her own eyebrows and shot him a look to indicate he should drop it.

He shook his head and walked over to his suitcase to pull out his dress shoes. "I can't work like this. I give up," he mumbled to himself.

"What's that all about?" Daniel whispered to Betty.

"Nothing," she replied, slipping the watch off of her other wrist and placing it on the counter. Maybe Justin was right and she didn't really need to worry about the time tonight anyway.

* * *

><p>As the cab pulled up in front of the Museum of London, Betty's stomach flipped with the thrill and excitement of it. She grasped the hand that was resting on the seat beside her and emitted a semi-stifled squeal. Justin grinned at her and squeezed her hand back in encouragement. Her enthusiasm did not go unnoticed by Daniel who was sitting in the front seat and he turned around to smile at her.<p>

"Are you ready A.B.?" Justin asked.

"I guess."

She took a deep breath and was about to open the door but Daniel, who had already paid the driver, hopped out and pulled it open for her, offering his hand to help her out. She took it gratefully.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, once she was out of the car.

"Scared, excited, nervous, mostly just wishing the night was over," she admitted.

His thumb gently caressed the back of the hand he was still holding onto. "Don't do that. This is your moment – savour it. It'll be a great night," he sounded so assured that she couldn't help but feel convinced of it. "Are we waiting out here for the others?"

She nodded. As Justin approached from the other side of the cab, he gently released her hand.

"Speak of the devils…" Justin said as another cab pulled up.

"Wow, this looks like quite the place to have a party," Hilda commented as she got out of the cab.

She did a little wiggle and tug to get her form fitting dress hugging all the right curves again after the cab ride. It was a short but classy little black dress and her heels made her legs look even longer than they were. There was cleavage, naturally, but Betty thought it relatively subdued for Hilda.

"Wow, Hilda, you look great," Betty said with the utmost sincerity even though she wondered - as she often did - how two people from exactly the same parents could have such completely different body types. There wasn't any animosity about it though; she'd long ago accepted the differences between herself and her sister.

"You look beautiful too, Mija," Ignacio commented when he saw Betty.

"You sure do Chipmunk." Bobby agreed with a low whistle.

"The prettiest Editor-in-Chief I've ever seen," Daniel agreed playfully and Betty mused a little thankfully that he seemed to have forgotten all about his ex-fiancé.

"Okay that's enough you guys, you're embarrassing me." She pressed her hands up to her cheeks. They were warm, flushed from the compliments and the anticipation.

"Well are we gonna stand out here all night or deliver the star of this gala?" Hilda asked with a smile.

"It's not a gala Hilda, not even close. I don't want you guys to be disappointed."

Daniel placed his arm on her back and smiled supportively. "Nobody's going to be disappointed."

"Gala, party, shindig, whatever. Let's just do it," Hilda said taking Bobby's arm and starting toward the door.

"Just a sec, Hilda." She turned to Justin. "Just a reminder, this is not Mode. There isn't a bunch of free swag like expensive lotions, creams, or whatever. The magazine doesn't have nearly the budget of Mode or the same kind of sponsors."

"I don't care A.B. We're not here for free stuff; we're here for you and to see your magazine."

She smiled and relaxed. "Alright, well, let's go in then."

The event was being catered by the museum so the only preparations that needed to be done had already been done during work hours that afternoon and the afternoon before.

There were two large posters of the cover of Londonesque at the entrance to the museum, and racks of the first issue scattered throughout the atrium where the event was being held. The wait staff was already circulating the tiny crowd which so far consisted only of the magazine staff because the event wasn't scheduled to start for another half and hour.

Lindsey saw Betty the moment she entered and waved her over.

"Mr. Dunne, this is my father, Ignacio," she said when they had walked over to him. Ignacio shook his hand. "And this is my sister Hilda, her husband Bobby and my nephew Justin."

"My, Betty, you are lucky to have your family come all this way for the launch," Lindsey commented after greeting them.

"We wouldn't have missed it," Ignacio said. "Well, if it wasn't for Daniel."

"Oh yes, this is Daniel Meade," Betty added gesturing to Daniel – who had wandered up behind everyone – to come forward.

"Ah yes, Daniel Meade, Bradford's son. You were Editor-in-Chief of Mode for a while, right? I've heard a lot about you," Lindsey commented.

Daniel nodded, a little chagrinned, wondering what Lindsey's source might be. Page six of the Times maybe? The National Inquirer? Either way it likely wasn't the most flattering.

"Betty says you are the best boss. I have some pretty big shoes to fill I think," Lindsey smiled and Betty blushed her eyes widening a little.

"I think I said that Daniel has taught me a lot about _being_ a good boss. About empowering people and being open to their suggestions," Betty explained looking completely embarrassed like she was trying to dig herself out of a hole. "And I meant it more about _me_ managing the magazine, not you Mr. Dunne."

Lindsey nodded. "Well, whatever, she speaks very highly of you, Daniel."

"She does?" Daniel smiled at her with surprised amusement.

She smiled back briefly, blushing, before quickly turning her head and changing the subject. "Everything looks great," she said to Lindsey.

"Yes. It should be a wonderful evening."

The rest of the evening went very smoothly. Lindsey and Betty both took a turn at the microphone speaking about the hopes and plans for the new magazine. Betty carried herself exceptionally well. She was witty and funny as she gave a little anecdote about getting ready for the launch, and she was passionate and knowledgeable as she spoke about possible upcoming features. It was as if she was made for this role. The part of Daniel that wasn't overwhelmed with pride in her was feeling ashamed that he'd ever resented this.

* * *

><p>Later in the evening, after all the required speeches and announcements were complete, Bobby and Ignacio were sitting comfortably in oversize lounge chairs chatting about soccer with some gentleman Lindsey had introduced them too. Hilda and Justin were wandering around collecting samples.<p>

"I don't know what you were talking about A.B., there is a ton of free stuff here tonight," Justin commented, displaying his bag full of free products being handed out by sponsors of the magazine. "And this is only about half. I still have the other side of the room to collect from." Betty smiled at him and shook her head thinking if she threw a costume on him he'd look like he was trick-or-treating - Hilda too for that matter.

She made her way over to Daniel who was standing alone and they started chatting when one of her new editors, walked up. They spoke for a minute about work and just as Betty thought she was about to leave she spoke up again.

"And who is this, Betty?" she asked, as she kept her piercing green eyes focused on Daniel.

"This is Daniel Meade. He's a really good friend of mine. And my ex-boss," Betty replied. "Daniel this is Rachel King. She's one of our associate editors."

"It's nice to meet you Daniel." Rachel gave him a charming smile and willingly offered her slender, perfectly manicured hand, which Daniel graciously shook. "So you were Betty's boss? You must have worked at Mode too then."

"Actually, Daniel was the Editor-in-Chief," Betty explained.

"One of them anyway," Daniel replied.

"Ooooh, Editor-in-Chief of Mode. That _is_ impressive. So that would explain such excellent taste." Betty noticed Rachel hadn't let go of his hand yet. Could she be any more obvious? It's probably a good thing she hadn't made the connection to Meade Publications and knew he owned it.

"Your suit is made of the most exquisite fabric." She put her other hand on Daniel's forearm and gently caressed the material. It was all Betty could do not to roll her eyes. "And the colour of your tie really brings out your eyes."

"Thanks." Daniel looked over to Betty and she faked a smile.

"Obviously they had the right person in the position at Mode." Rachel smiled and flipped her long, silky blonde mane back behind her shoulders now that she had unclenched her hand from Daniel's.

"Are you familiar with Mode?" Daniel asked.

"Oh, who isn't familiar with Mode? I'm sorry I didn't recognize your name though. I don't spend a lot of time reading fashion magazines."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed that," he replied, as he admired her stylish outfit. Or maybe it wasn't just her outfit. Betty bristled a little.

That was enough. She tuned their voices out and didn't hear the rest.

She knew it shouldn't have bothered her, it's not like he was her date. But Rachel didn't know that, and that was precisely the point. What woman in her right mind hits on her boss' date in front of her? Obviously it had never even crossed Rachel's mind that Daniel would be here with Betty.

It was the assumption that annoyed her. Was it not even within the realm of possibility that he might be her date?

Betty determined she was not going to let this get to her. This was Londonesque's night and she was the managing editor. This little happenstance was but a blip in an otherwise very successful, enjoyable evening. She inhaled a big breath of air to help her relax and turned to leave those two to…whatever.

She pushed aside the niggling thought that she and Justin might be heading back to the suite alone tonight because that notion was extremely irritating for some reason.

"Betty?" Daniel called as she walked away, so she turned back plastering on that fake smile again. His brow furrowed as if he could tell her smile wasn't sincere. Blast that stupid four year history.

"Yes?" she replied with feigned sweetness.

"Uh…I just wondered where you were going?"

"Just mingling. That's kind of my job tonight. You…uh…have fun." Her voice sounded so artificially chipper she almost cringed. And why did she tell him to have fun with Rachel? She did not mean that, at all.

XXXX

Daniel was a little stunned that Betty had just abandoned him. Not that he was alone. Rachel was definitely making sure he knew that. She was practically pawing him. And sure, she was extremely attractive in that obvious way – tall and blonde with long legs and perfectly made up – but he wasn't interested, at all.

It's not like he was really Betty's date - her entire family was here with her as well – but there were moments tonight when it had kind of felt like it. In much the same way that it had felt like it at Hilda's wedding, even though they were both supposed to attend that with other people and had just ended up there alone, together. Obviously Betty didn't feel that way though or she never would have deserted him here with this woman throwing herself at him. And "have fun"? What did she mean by that?

"…I'd never met anyone quite as inquisitive," Rachel finished her sentence and Daniel realized he hadn't been listening to a word.

He smiled and nodded. "Uh, listen Rachel, it's been very nice to meet you but I think I'm going to mingle a little, pick up a copy of the magazine, and grab another drink."

"Oh, well, sure." She seemed a little taken aback by Daniel's not so subtle brush off; she probably wasn't brushed off very often.

Daniel made his way through the crowd looking for Betty, grabbing another flute of champagne and a copy of the magazine as he searched. He found her in a group of people but opted to let her finish that conversation and catch up with her later. He grabbed an oversized armchair situated in the corner of the atrium and opened the magazine so he could read some of it rather than just skimming through it like he had when they first arrived.

Several minutes later and several articles in, Betty turned up beside him. "Soooo…what do you think? Honestly." She looked apprehensive.

He gave her the broadest smile. "It's really, really good."

"Really?"

He chuckled. "Honestly. And I'm not just saying that because I want you to come back to my hotel with me tonight..." He really hoped she'd pick up on the flirty tone.

She paused for a split second as if she was trying to gage him, but then she smiled as if she just processed a punch line. "Clever Daniel…and funny."

His attempt to flirt was apparently an amusing joke to her. Introducing her to flirting with him was going to take a little more effort, obviously.

Switching back to the topic of the magazine he said "No, seriously Betty, you did a great job. You should be very proud."

"So…uh…where's Rachel?" Betty asked with hesitation.

"I don't know," he shrugged with indifference and returned his focus to Londonesque.

"I thought you two were hitting it off."

He studied her face for a second, a little puzzled. "She's nice enough, I guess_._ You didn't honestly think I'd pick someone up at your launch party, did you?"

She shrugged that time.

His chest tightened a little, disappointed that she still had that idea of him. Worse though, was that it, combined with the flirting failure told him they must be on completely different wavelengths. He needed to change that.

"Betty, I'm here for you…uh, for your big night. I don't want to meet anyone."

She smiled softly, almost bashfully. He subtly attempted to reach for her hand but he missed it because at the same time she turned and gestured to the thinning crowd and commented lightly, "I have to help organize the clean up."

He sighed inaudibly, slightly frustrated at his thwarted attempts to connect with her this evening. "Sure. Do you need help?" he managed to say without sounding too frustrated.

"No," she grinned obviously quite amused.

"What's so funny?"

"You, offering to help clean up my party. How many of your own did you ever clean up?"

"Yeah, well Mode had a very different budget. We could hire people."

"There isn't too much to do. The museum will take care of most of it. We just have to gather up the leftover magazines. You stay and keep reading so you can continue telling me how wonderful it is later," she joked, turning to walk away.

After reading part of another article, Daniel glanced up from the magazine to see how many people were still hanging around. The crowd had thinned out substantially. Betty was giving instructions to someone on the other side of the room and then she turned and waved at him. He smiled and waved back and then turned back to the magazine. The long day at ModeUK must have drained him because he was feeling exhausted. He leaned back in the chair, resting the magazine across his chest and closed his eyes to relax for a minute.

"_Hey." She walked up to him and he opened his eyes._

"_Hey. Quite the night, huh?"_

"_Yeah." She looked relieved but there was another expression he couldn't read on her face and she looked like she wanted to say something._

"_What?" he asked._

"_Um…do you want to get out of here?"_

"_I guess." He still couldn't read her expression; he'd never seen it before._

_She took him by the hand and led him outside where she hailed a cab._

"_Where are we going?" he asked; her behaviour seemed very purposeful._

"_I thought we might just go back to the hotel," she suggested hesitantly. "Big suite, room service, just hangout. I'm wiped. Um…if that's alright by you?"_

_He shrugged. "Sure."_

_They got into the cab and Betty told the driver where to take them. As the car pulled away from the curb Daniel couldn't help but notice how close they were sitting – legs and arms touching. She took her hair down with an exhausted sigh, slipped the clip in her purse and ran her fingers through it to smooth it out, flipping it back over her shoulder when she was finished. She smiled sweetly and then she put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and gave her a warm squeeze. _

_She shifted her weight so she was facing him a little more and started fidgeting with his tie in some mock attempt to straighten it. _

"_Thank you Daniel, for tonight, for being so supportive, for everything," her hands stopped fidgeting but remained on his chest. He wondered if she could feel how hard his heart was beating._

"_You don't have to thank me Betty." He almost added "I would do anything for you" but thought better of it._

_She looked up at him and they locked gazes for several long, drawn out seconds. There was no denying the thick tension, and only one way to cut through it. He leaned closer, his eyes scanning her flushed cheeks and her full lips before meeting her eyes again. He inched toward her carefully, giving her every opportunity to pull away but he knew that he had no choice - he absolutely needed to feel what it was like to kiss her just once, if she let him. She wasn't pulling away; in fact she seemed to lean in closer so he tenderly brushed his lips against hers for one soft, brief moment. When he pulled back, she placed her hand gently on his jaw and caressed his cheek with her thumb. Neither one of them spoke._

_A dozen thoughts ran threw his head. He wanted to tell her how he admired her, what an incredible person he thought she was, how he needed her but having her as a friend wasn't enough anymore. But he didn't say anything. The moment was too fragile. It felt as if words, any words, would break this amazing spell. Instead he leaned down and kissed her again, much longer this time, breaking from it only to graze his lips on her cheek, her nose, her temple before pressing them into hers tenderly again. _

_Betty gave him the most amazing smile; he loved that smile. She kissed his chin softly and nuzzled into his neck before taking his hand and gently entwining her fingers with his. _

_The realization that they were heading back to his suite dawned on him and he wondered if they would spend most of the evening curled up on the sofa like this. Holding each other, embracing, kissing, simply being together. He closed his eyes for a moment thinking nothing would be better than that – well almost nothing, but he didn't dare hope for more tonight._

_He cupped her chin and gently lifted it so he could kiss her again - he didn't want to stop now. There was no urgency, just the simplicity of delighting in what this felt like. And yet he couldn't let go of the nagging idea that they should talk about it._

_He pulled back slowly. "Betty—"_

_She interrupted him with another soft kiss that intensified just enough to make him forget he was about to say something until she spoke. _

"_Don't over-think this or analyze it right now, ok? I just want to be here in the moment and savour it."_

"_**You**__ don't want __**me**__ to over-think it?" He raised his eyebrows and started to grin._

"_Shut up," she replied playfully. "I just feel like we have all the time in the world to talk but such a short time to be together like this before you have to go back."_

_Daniel smiled warmly. "'All the time in the world'? I hope that means what I think—"_

"_Shh." She put her hand over his mouth. "That sounds a lot like talking." _

_She moved her hand from his mouth to the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him softly again. He deepened it and placed his hands on her waist, then allowed them to slowly drift around to her back and up underneath her thick, lush hair to the nape of her neck. She inhaled sharply and Daniel knew he'd found a sensitive area. _

"_Daniel…" she whispered breathlessly. He'd heard her say his name a thousand times but never quite like that. The way she said it made him wonder if just maybe he could hope for more tonight. _"_Da_niel…?"

"…it's time to go. Do you know where Justin is?"

He opened his eyes and tried to focus them. He was back in the sparse, half-empty hall. Betty was standing above him with a quizzical, amused expression on her face._  
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Daniel shook his head silently to answer her question and blinked a few times.

"Were you sleeping? Did you fall asleep at my launch party?" she asked with a slightly astonished smile. Then she noticed the magazine splayed across his chest and added wide-eyed, "Reading my magazine? So tell me what part of it was so captivating that it put you to sleep?" she teased.

"What? No. I wasn't sleeping," he lied.

"You were so," she accused him but she didn't seem angry just amused.

Daniel felt incredibly uncomfortable and he wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want her to think he'd fallen asleep at her party, or the fact that he couldn't look her directly in the face at the moment and yet she was standing so close.

He pushed himself up out of the chair, extremely flustered. "Lets…uh…find Justin."

"Are you alright?" she asked him. "I'm not mad. I was just teasing. I know you had a really long day." She put her hand on his forearm as a gesture of understanding.

"I'm fine," he was starting to relax again. "There's just a lot on my mind. Come on, let's look for Justin."

They found Justin only a few minutes later off in a quiet nook off to the side of the atrium texting Austin about the party. Hilda, Bobby and Ignacio were sitting in chairs near the front waiting for everyone.

Ignacio was exhausted and so was Hilda so the two groups parted ways at the front of the museum as they climbed into separate cabs.

"I have got a big day of sightseeing planned tomorrow," Betty said enthusiastically once the cab started pulling away. Justin sat in the front this time.

"It was nice of Mr. Dunne to give you the day off Aunt Betty."

"Yeah. He's great that way."

"So you'd say he's your second best boss ever then?" Daniel teased, bringing back the conversation with Lindsey. Betty was relieved that he seemed to be back to normal and not as tense as he'd been a few minutes ago.

Betty rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him.

"I had no idea you felt so strongly, Betty. And you were so embarrassed that Lindsey said so in front of me."

"I was embarrassed because I thought Lindsey was implying that I was comparing his management skills to yours," she clarified.

"Really Betty? So it had nothing to do with me overhearing how you talk about me to your new boss all the time." His grin was smug.

"I don't talk about you all of the time. I mentioned once that I thought you were a good boss."

"You were mortified. Your little cheeks were all red." He waggled a dancing finger in front of her face.

She brushed it away. "They weren't all red."

"They were. And they are now too." He waggled his finger in her face again.

"Would you stop with the finger?" She grabbed his hand and held it down so he didn't do it again.

There was nothing untoward about it whatsoever but when Justin looked back because of the commotion and noticed their hands together, Betty suddenly felt self-conscious so she let it go.

Back up in the suite they collapsed in the living area, Daniel on one sofa, Betty on the other directly across the room and Justin in an armchair with the remote, his right leg flung over the arm.

"I'm exhausted," Betty admitted. "But completely wired."

"Really? What's that like because I don't think I've ever seen you wired before?" Daniel teased.

She threw a throw pillow at his head but he ducked in time.

"We should probably go to bed," she said, not moving. "I guess we should pull the beds out."

"We should call housekeeping," Daniel commented, as if it would be inane to pull out your own sofa-bed.

"Oh come on Daniel, it's a pull-out. You pull it out. It's not rocket science. I don't think we need to disturb housekeeping just to make up our beds." She got up and lifted the cushions off of the couch she was sitting on which was Justin's bed.

"We're not 'disturbing' them Betty, it's their job. Does it disturb you when someone asks you to read over their article?"

"That's different," she argued, grabbing the handle and tugging.

It didn't move so she yanked even harder. That time it gave way quickly and smoothly and she lost her balance. She held onto the handle long enough to right herself just in time after doing a mortifying little semi twist that she thought would end with her underneath the bed frame on the floor. She looked around quickly. Thank goodness Justin and Daniel were both engrossed in the program on the television they hadn't noticed.

The blankets were already on the bed so she just needed to get the pillows out of the closet, which she did, and tossed them on the bed. Justin went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

She walked over to the other one. "Alright," she said standing in front of Daniel, who was reclined on the couch. "This is the part where you move."

"But I'm comfortable," he complained.

"But I want my bed."

"What about the other one?" he asked gesturing to the other sofa.

"That's Justin's bed. You are on my bed."

"Technically I'm on a sofa," he teased.

"There are lots of chairs, make yourself comfy in a chair," she suggested, grabbing him by the wrist to pull him up but he was dead weight and didn't budge. "Seriously Daniel, the wired has turned to tired. I would think you would be too after getting up to go into Mode so early this morning. And you have to go in tomorrow too."

"Don't remind me."

"I just want to go to sleep and if you don't move in the next few seconds I'm crashing on _your_ bed."

He didn't move. It had been intended as an idle threat but now she needed to follow through. That's what all the good parenting handbooks say, isn't it? Not that Daniel was a child but, well, he kind of was sometimes.

She turned and walked into the bedroom area wondering how long she would have to put on this little charade before he actually moved his butt off of the sofa. The room was huge and beautifully decorated with an oversize king bed in the middle of the room and an ensuite bath to the left.

She sat down on the end of the bed and bounced a few times. "Wow, super comfortable." She raised her voice enough for him to hear.

She lay back on the puffy douvet. "I'm going to sleep now," she said loudly again.

The bed was actually very comfortable. She closed her eyes for a second enjoying the feel of the soft douvet underneath her. Laying peacefully, she began recapping the events of the night. She smiled, pleased with what a great evening it had been.

"You are such a horrible faker." Hearing his voice so close startled her because she hadn't heard him walking into the room. She realized that she had almost fallen asleep. "If you're going to pretend to sleep on my bed at least climb onto it and don't just sit on the end."

"I'm almost not pretending," she admitted with a yawn.

He sat down on the end and lay back as well. "What were you just thinking?" he asked softly, looking up at the ceiling.

"What?"

"You had a very satisfied, happy look on your face," he explained. "I just wondered what you were thinking about. Uh…if you don't mind me asking," he added awkwardly.

"I was just thinking about tonight. It went well."

"It went very well," he agreed. "You were great tonight Betty. You were so confident and passionate. I've never seen you quite like that before. " He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow to look at her, his eyes earnest. He brushed a lock of hair off of her forehead, which was…weird, and paused for a second, examining her face. Then he began in that super serious tone of his "Actually, speaking of seeing people diff—"

"Aunt Betty, have you seen my brush?" Justin yelled from the washroom.

"It's in the brown bag, I think," Betty yelled back. She was suddenly feeling a little awkward lying on Daniel's bed while her nephew was in the other room; Justin might get the wrong idea entirely.

"It's not, I checked," Justin replied with another holler.

"I'll come and help find it in a second," she said as she sat up.

She was curious about Daniel's comment though because he'd seemed so intense. "What were you saying?"

"Uh…" he paused, looked out the door into the living area and then back at Betty as if he was contemplating something. "Nothing," he shook his head looking a little disconcerted.

"Are you sure? It sounded important."

"It can wait. We'll talk another time," he insisted with a weak smile, pushing himself up off of the bed and disappearing into his bathroom.


	6. Dateless in New York

_Thanks again to everyone for the wonderful reviews.  
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_I feel I need to explain that this story has been plotted out and mostly written for a while. I just takes a long time to edit the chapters to the point that I'm satisfied. I only say this so that you know that I'm going somewhere with this story and not deliberately leaving you hanging.  
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_Also, at the risk of spoilers to my own story I feel I need to state that this is a "coming together" story and if I get them together too soon the story would be very short.  
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_More importantly (especially for these next chapters) I need to say that I have a weird sense of humour and I loved all the wacky stuff the writers of Ugly Betty put in the story lines. I'm just having fun with the characters so please read it with a sense of humour.  
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_All of that being said, I'm posting a couple of chapters at once to push us a little further along in the story line.  
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* * *

><p>After a long day at work and then a fun evening at the theater with Justin, Betty relaxed on the sofa and flipped to the Monday evening news. Justin had just disappeared into the bathroom for a shower when the computer chimed indicating someone was on Skype. She walked over and accepted the call.<p>

Amanda's face appeared on the screen. "Hey Betty, so how was that launch thing of yours? It was on the weekend, right?"

"Actually it was last Thursday," Betty corrected her. "It was great. My family came. Daniel was here on business with ModeUK and he flew them in. They all went back to New York yesterday, except for Justin. He's staying to visit for a couple of weeks."

"Really? So Daniel finally crawled out from under his rock, huh?" Amanda said slowly, squinting suspiciously.

"What's with that look, Amanda?"

"Oh, you like?" She looked down at her outfit, her attention completely shifted. "I'm trying something new. It's a little Sarah Jessica Parker meets Lady Gaga."

"That's great, but not exactly what I meant. I meant, why are you looking funny?"

"I don't look funny. That's hurtful Betty. This is a new outfit and I'm just experimenting a little. And after all those times I kept my mouth shut about your awful outfits when I really, really wanted to say something."

"And when, exactly, was that?" Betty wondered aloud, temporarily distracted from the fact she wasn't referring to Amanda's outfit at all. It hadn't really been Amanda's M.O. to hold back her opinion on Betty's fashion choices.

"You know, that time you wore that ugly, loud, jewel toned purple shirt. Not to mention those ridiculous striped pants of yours that should be in a circus. And what is it with those awful leopard prints you're always wearing, especially that purple stretch t-shirt?"

"Hey! Those are my clothes, Amanda!" Marc was off-screen but Betty heard his offended voice.

"Oh." Amanda looked puzzled for a split second and then it sank in. "Never mind Betty."

"Anyway, I wasn't talking about your outfit. I meant, what did you mean by the comment about my family and Daniel coming to London?"

"Oh, that. I just found it interesting that Daniel has been holed up in his apartment for almost two months and yet he feels up to flying to England for your thing."

"What do you mean, Daniel has been 'holed up'?" Betty asked.

"I mean hibernating, hiding out, under wraps," she clarified.

"What?

"Yeah, what's going on with him, anyway?" Marc grabbed a chair to sit down so he could join the conversation now that it seemed to have some teeth.

"Nothing. What do you mean?" Betty asked.

"Gee Betty, for an editor and a writer your grasp of English is kind of sad," Amanda commented and then she gasped and added apologetically "Oh sorry, that's a little insensitive; I always forget that it's not your mother's tongue."

Betty wasn't sure if it was better to correct Amanda's expression or her facts so she opted for neither and instead moved on to her point. "I was just trying to understand why Marc thinks something is wrong," Betty explained.

"Because he hasn't had a date in eons, duh," Marc intoned as if it should be obvious. "Page six has been Meade free for months."

"How do you know he hasn't been out? Maybe he's just not broadcasting it. I'm sure you're not privy to everything going on in his life."

"Ooooh, why? Has he told you anything? Has he mentioned anyone?" Marc's eyes opened a little wider and he pulled his chair closer to the computer awaiting the scoop.

"No. He hasn't said a word to me about anyone." Betty admitted, wondering for the first time why it never occurred to her to ask him if he was dating.

"Well if you're not talking about his love life and I'm pretty sure there's not much to say about yours…"

"What _do_ you talk about then?" Amanda interrupted.

"I don't know, work, the magazine, his course, family, stuff like that."

"Snoresville! And yet you still keep calling one another." Marc was incredulous. "You mean to tell me he hasn't mentioned one woman in all the times you guys have spoken?"

"No, he hasn't Marc. I'm sorry to derail the gossip train." Betty said.

"I think you're holding out on us." Marc accused her.

Betty shook her head. "I'm not."

"Oh why are we even bothering?" Marc asked Amanda. "She's Daniel's gatekeeper. She'd never give us the low down anyway. This…" he waved his hand in front of the screen indicating Betty, "is where Meade gossip goes to die. It's the final resting place of dirty laundry…not to mention tacky laundry, cheap synthetic laundry and laundry with prints that make your eyes burn."

"Oh my God!" Amanda suddenly thought of something. "I ruined him for other women."

"What are you talking about Amanda?" Betty asked.

"Well once you experience all of this…" she waved her hand up and down her frame. "It's probably hard to imagine yourself with anything less." She said it with the utmost sincerity and remorse.

Betty wanted to remind her that he didn't seem to have that issue years ago when they'd been sleeping together but she thought that might be a little cruel. Instead she just said, "I doubt that's it."

"Well, what else could it be?" Amanda wondered.

"Guys, just because someone hasn't dated for a while doesn't mean anything is wrong. Maybe he just hasn't found the right person." She was trying to remain patient with them.

"Oh pu-lease, Betty, 'the right person' – you make it sound like a job interview. It's a date. Let me describe what one is like," Marc said condescendingly. "It's dinner and maybe a show, and with Daniel, probably a little quickie in a closet somewhere or on the floor of a limo or something."

"On the backseat," Amanda corrected him. "The floor space is too small and you have to contort yourself into the most awkward positions – totally uncomfortable."

In Betty's opinion, the way she spoke with such authority about it was totally uncomfortable and she tried desperately to erase the mental images that had infiltrated her brain.

"He's not really like that anymore," she reminded them.

"Whatever. The point is, he's not going out at all, and that's pretty colossal. " Marc clarified.

"Marc is right Betty. It's really weird for Daniel not to be dating anyone for such a long time. The only time that happened before was when he was involved in that cult." She gasped. "Maybe he's involved in another one."

"He's not involved with a cult Amanda," Betty assured her.

"How do you know Betty? Maybe he is and maybe they have some weird vow of celibacy or something."

"I talk to him all of the time. I'm pretty sure there is no cult. Maybe we should just leave Daniel alone. He's perfectly capable of finding a date if he wants to and if he doesn't then why should we care? It's none of our business."

" 'It's none of our business'?" Marc was appalled. "Would you be so nonchalant about it if Tyra started wearing sweats all the time, or if Beyonce decided dancing was morally unacceptable?"

"Marc, you're being a little melodramatic. So Daniel hasn't had a date for a while, what's the big deal?"

"Betty, let me talk slowly so you'll understand." His tone was extremely condescending. "I know you are relatively unfamiliar with this dating thing, and two months without a date is scarcely even a dry spell for you, but for Daniel Meade it's the Sahara."

"He's right, Betty," Amanda agreed. "Personally, I think it's a sign of the apocalypso."

"In case you were wondering, that's the end of the world for Harry Belafonte," Marc explained to Betty with a straight face. Amanda just gave him a puzzled look.

Betty sighed softly in irritation. "That's enough you two. If you want to know so badly why Daniel isn't dating anyone then why don't you just ask him?" She wasn't really serious but she'd had enough of this conversation.

They looked at her like she had suggested they tell Wilhelmina she'd gained a little weight.

"First of all, what would be the fun in that?" Marc wondered. "And secondly, I'm not exactly best buddies with Daniel. I can't just call him up and ask him for the scoop."

Amanda nodded agreement.

"But _you_ could," Marc added hopefully. "He's the Siegfried to your Roy, if Roy was thirty pounds heavier and had more facial hair."

"I'm not going to ask Daniel about his personal life just so I can give you two ammo or fodder or whatever it is you want for your gossip mongering," Betty said ignoring his insult.

"Then do it for him," Amanda suggested with a softer tone and what sounded like genuine concern. "Maybe if he talks about whatever is bothering him you can encourage him to get back out there again. You know they say if you don't use a muscle then it will atrophy and die and then eventually fall off. And believe me when I tell you that would be a crime..." She added with emphasis "of _immense_ proportion."

Marc's eyes went wide with delight and Amanda nodded confirmation.

Betty cringed. There was so much wrong with Amanda's comment it was disturbing. And how did she know a word like "atrophy" anyway?

Just then the shower stopped. She wanted to end this conversation before Justin walked in on it.

"Okay, fine, I'll talk to him," she said just to appease them. She had no real intention; after all it wasn't a big deal. And for some odd reason she didn't want to have that discussion with him, which was weird really, because they'd never had trouble discussing that kind of stuff in the past. "Can we talk about something else? Justin is about to come out of the shower and this is not a conversation he needs to overhear."

"Oooh, put him on when he comes. I've got some celebrity scoop he'd love to hear," Amanda said enthusiastically.

"Just keep it PG please," Betty begged.

* * *

><p>The next evening, just as Justin and Betty were clearing up the plates after supper, Betty's door buzzer indicated someone was downstairs.<p>

"Delivery for a Ms. Betty Suarez," the voice on the intercom explained.

She buzzed him up.

"Thank you very much." Betty said, tipping him before she closed the door to her apartment.

She turned and placed the oversize bouquet on her kitchen counter unwrapping the paper to display an enormous combination of pink, yellow and red gerbera daisies with white tulips for accents.

"Oh my goodness, it's so beautiful," Betty exclaimed as she reached up on tiptoes for a vase to place them in.

"Who is it from A.B.?" Justin asked.

"I don't know. There's a card." She placed the flowers in the vase with water and pulled the card out of the envelope. "It's from Mrs. Meade. It says 'Congratulations on a very successful launch Betty. We are all so proud of you.' Awww…she is so sweet."

"The Meades really love you, huh?" Justin commented as he picked up the plates from the dinner table and placed them in the sink.

"Well, we've been through a lot together, Justin."

"You can say that again. And shared experiences - particularly traumatic ones - have a way of bringing people together, making them closer than they even admit to themselves sometimes."

Betty furrowed her brow and looked confused. "What are you going on about?"

"I'm talking about you and the Meades, particularly the tall, handsome, single, male heir," Justin said nonchalantly as he plugged the sink and ran the water for the dishes.

"Justin…" Betty's tone indicated she wasn't particularly comfortable with where the conversation was heading which made Justin realize he was hitting a nerve of some sort.

It didn't stop him though. He was intensely curious and he thought his aunt probably needed a little prompting before she'd admit anything.

"What's going on with you and Daniel, anyway?" He decided to ask bluntly, no point beating around the bush.

"What do you mean?" Betty asked, grabbing the kettle off of the counter and coming toward the sink. Justin stepped aside so she could fill the kettle for tea and then stepped back in front of the sink when she moved away to plug it in. "Nothing's going on. It's just Daniel."

Justin raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that said he didn't believe it.

"What Justin? What's the look for?"

"Come on Aunt Betty, the goodbye at the airport the other day?" He placed a plate in the drain tray.

"It was a perfectly normal good-bye Justin." Betty picked it up and wiped it with the tea towel.

"That lingering hug, and I have no idea what you two said to each other because I was too far away and you were whispering…_whispering_." He threw the handful of cutlery he'd just wiped in the tray that time.

"I wasn't whispering. I just wasn't yelling because there was no need to." Betty reached up and put the plate in the cupboard and then turned to grab the cutlery.

"Because you were standing so close to him. And every time you talk to him or _about_ him you light up like Grandpa's chandelier."

Betty stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, a very obvious look of mortification across her face. "I do not—"

"Yes you do. You are totally crushing on him," Justin accused, delighted at the faint colour he noticed on her cheeks. If there was no truth to his theory there was no way she'd be blushing.

"That's ridiculous. Daniel and I are just friends. We've always just been friends." She looked a little more than mortified now and he started to feel badly for teasing her.

"Don't worry, it's not just you, you know. The looks he gives you…"

"Okay, now I know you've lost your mind. Daniel does _not_ give me any looks."

"Are you kidding me? He totally does. And what about the hand holding and touchy-feely the night of your launch party?"

Justin could not imagine that Daniel's affection would go unnoticed by her. It was just so obvious - especially at the launch party - the fact that he grinned just a little wider whenever she spoke to him, the way that he hung on every word when she started telling a story or going on excitedly about the magazine, his attempts to look for any excuse to put his arm around her or touch her somehow, like the way he had held onto her hand just a little longer than necessary after he'd helped her out of the car. Mostly though, it was those gazes he would sneak when she turned away to charm a different group of people. Of course she would have to take his word on those and obviously she didn't believe him.

"Justin, there was no hand holding and certainly no touchy-feely."

"Whatever. I'm telling you - even if you can't see it yourself - you two have something going on."

* * *

><p>Betty was extremely uncomfortable. They worked in silence for the next several minutes. Justin's accusation replayed over and over in her mind as she made the tea and dried the dishes he'd placed in the drain-tray, the mindless activity bringing only a small amount of comfort.<p>

For half a minute she allowed herself to ponder the fact that Justin's accusation wasn't the first one she'd heard about her and Daniel. Mrs. Meade had mentioned something about a "theory" before Betty had left New York. But it was absurd. There was no possible way Daniel felt that way about her. No, Mrs. Meade loved her and was probably just trying to offer some kind of explanation to comfort her when Betty had said she thought Daniel hated her. And Justin…well, it was pretty obvious what Justin's motivation was. He loved the Meades and all the drama and fame that went with them. It wouldn't be difficult for him to see all sorts of imaginary "looks" between her and Daniel that in reality were just supportive, encouraging, completely platonic glances from one friend to another.

But where did he get the hand holding thing from? Unless…there was that incident in the cab when she'd grabbed Daniel's finger to stop him from irritating her – he could be referring to that. Justin had looked back at the wrong time and he might have misinterpreted it. And of course, she was lying on Daniel's bed - innocently enough – but she could see how Justin might have misconstrued that as well.

She and Daniel were friends, good friends. She cared about him, of course, because friends care about each other, but a crush? That was ridiculous…wasn't it?

She'd been so happy to see him - all of her family actually – and so incredibly grateful that he'd made it happen for her. She was impressed that he realized it would be something she wanted…no needed, before she even did. Plus, he'd been incredibly supportive the past several weeks as she prepared for the big launch, listening for hours on end while she complained about problems or just worked through issues aloud with him.

The launch party had been almost magical – like a dream come true. She was floating through the entire evening on an emotional high. It was the highlight of her career with her family there to help celebrate it and Daniel looking at her with admiration. Inwardly she gasped as she realized just how much she had enjoyed Daniel looking at her with admiration.

As she stood against the counter putting all the pieces of the past few weeks together, her heart constricted a little. Could she have a crush? It would explain why she'd never bothered to ask him if he was dating and why Amanda's idea that she should talk to him about his dateless-ness, was unusually aversive. It also explained why he was always the first one she wanted to talk to when something exciting or interesting happened at work. And then the clincher: It was also the logical explanation for her complete disdain towards Rachel's flirtation and why the idea of him going home with her had been so irritating.

Oh my gosh, she did have a crush!

How did she let this happen?

Four years working with him and nothing. She moves to another country and suddenly she's doodling Betty Meade across her notebooks with little hearts in the corners. Well, not literally but she might as well be, it was just that foolish. And awkward…

"_I know you have a crush on me. It was bound to happen. We're just going to have to work through it together."_

The memory made her cringe. His accusation had been funny at the time because there wasn't an ounce of truth to it but if they had to have that same conversation now it wouldn't be amusing so much as humiliating, not to mention the tension it would put on the friendship they'd just repaired.

With a little trepidation she began to wonder if maybe Daniel had noticed some of her behavior being off. She relaxed a little when she realized that he hadn't been acting like he had. Except…he had been so serious and he definitely wanted to talk to her about something the night of the launch. Her heart fell.

Desperately looking for something positive she landed on the fact that it was _possible_ he hadn't noticed the crush yet. I mean, _she_ hadn't even really recognized it until Justin had pointed it out to her. She sighed. She needed to do something, anything, to put a kibosh on the crush before it got worse and to make sure Daniel didn't notice. Or if he thought he had, to throw him off that track.

Betty decided the only way to stop the foolishness before it got out of control was to put some distance between herself and Daniel and seeing as there was already an ocean there that meant she needed to sever the communication. Not completely, that would be impossible without an explanation and a little cruel to both of them. But obviously the regular video chats were not helping and the daily texts and emails could probably be whittled down to bi-weekly without causing too much suspicion.

She avoided video chatting with him for almost two weeks - most of Justin's visit in fact. It was the longest stretch of time they'd spent not chatting since they'd reconnected two months ago. He did send emails though; one of them asking why she wasn't connecting on Skype. With a modicum of guilt she gave a lame excuse that something was wrong with her personal computer, that she needed to look into it and she didn't want to use her work laptop for personal things like video chatting. He also called a couple of times but she always managed to convince him that it was a bad time for talking – she had an early morning meeting and had to go to bed or she and Justin were rushing off to do some sight-seeing. Most of the excuses were true but she also knew that if she wasn't trying to shut down these crazy feelings, she would have made some time for him.

It was a Thursday evening and Justin had three days left before he was flying back to New York. Betty decided she didn't feel like cooking.

"Hey, there's a fish and chips shop around the corner, Justin. Should we get that?"

"Do you know the calorie count on a single piece of battered fish?"

Betty rolled her eyes. "Ok, how about some Thai food? There's a restaurant a couple of blocks away. I could run out and get something."

"That sounds great. Something with a bit of spice though. This English food is starting to get to me…no flavour at all."

"Justin, I've been cooking for you." Betty said with her mouth dropping open in offense.

"I know A.B and you've been totally assimilated into the British culture, you've even adopted the bland cooking."

Betty shook her head and then headed for the door. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Aunt Betty, is it all right if I Skype Mom?" He pointed to the computer on the small desk in the corner. "I haven't talked to her in a couple of days and I want to tell her about the play we saw the other night."

Betty smiled. "Of course, Justin."

As Betty opened the door when she was returning from the restaurant, she heard Justin chatting on the computer. She was glad; she was hoping he'd still be connected with Hilda so she could talk to her too.

"She's back." She heard Justin say.

Betty placed the bag on the counter and hurried over to the desk to say a quick hello.

"Hi Hil—" She stopped when she realized it wasn't Hilda, it was Daniel. Her heart fluttered and then the anxiety filled her. "Oh…hi Daniel." She said cautiously.

"Hey Betty. I guess you got your computer fixed." Daniel said looking a little hurt.

"Uh…yeah."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Justin looked from Daniel to Betty, and then he got up and walked over to the counter. He started pulling the food out of the brown paper bag and placing it on the table.

"Justin said you went out to pick up supper so I guess I should let you go so you can eat while it's still warm."

"Yeah, I guess." Betty said. She wondered what was wrong with her brain; she couldn't even form full sentences.

"Ok. We'll talk another time then."

They hung up after saying good-bye and Justin looked over.

"Awkward," he said, as he turned to grab some plates out of the cupboard. "Why are you avoiding Daniel?" He went straight for the jugular.

"I'm not avoiding Daniel," Betty said, as she walked over to the kitchen and got out the cutlery.

"Oh please, Aunt Betty, 'there's something wrong with my computer'? That's so lame." He shook his head in disbelief.

She placed the cutlery on the table. "What? It could be true. Maybe I had a virus."

"Yeah maybe, but Daniel's not stupid, you've also been brushing off his phone calls for the past two weeks." He gasped, suddenly horrified. "You're not avoiding him because of what I said, are you?"

"No…NO…" Betty denied fervently, shaking her head. "I told you, I'm not _avoiding_ him at all."

Justin's doubtful expression made her cringe even before he spoke. "_I'm_ not stupid either."

"Okay, fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'm avoiding him a little," she admitted reluctantly as they sat down to eat. "You know, I think I liked you better when you were younger. You weren't so perceptive."

"So why are you avoiding him?" Justin asked as he dished out some pad Thai and a little cashew chicken.

"I don't know," she lied.

The smells wafting from the Styrofoam containers combined with her anxiety over this mess made her feel more queasy than hungry so she didn't eagerly reach to fill her plate.

He gave her another look.

"Okay, you weren't exactly…_wrong_…about the crush." She spoke very hesitantly. She was barely able to admit it to herself; she wasn't really ready to talk about it with anyone else. "And I just thought it might be best to put some space between us for a little while."

"Yours or his?" Justin asked casually forking some pad Thai into his mouth.

"Mine or his what?" She waited for a moment while he chewed and swallowed his mouthful.

"Crush. Whose crush are you talking about, yours or his?"

Why did Justin talk like that, like he was all knowing about people's emotions? Betty was getting annoyed. It was not at all beneficial to be filled with hope that turned her into a giddy school girl about this. This was Daniel, and his friendship meant the world to her. She did not want to mess with that.

"And talking like that isn't helpful, either. Daniel does not have a crush." She was unusually sharp with him and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry Justin. I just think it would be best if we dropped this."

Justin must have thought better than to respond because he just took a mouthful of his cashew chicken and remained silent.

* * *

><p>Betty was decidedly disappointed in herself for the way she'd left things with Daniel. It was fairly apparent from his pained expression and her conversation with Justin that Daniel didn't really buy her excuse that she had a crippled computer. And whatever weird emotions she was experiencing, it was hardly his fault. He had only ever tried to be a good friend, a great friend, actually. He'd even flown her family in for her launch party. It had been wrong to shut him out like she had just because she was being stupid.<p>

He hadn't tried to call her back and she was too busy with the last few days of Justin's trip – seeing all the sights they hadn't had a chance to yet – that she hadn't had the time or the energy to figure out how she was going to make this better between them.

The day Justin left she decided she needed to try to fix the problem. She determined she would call Daniel, on the actual telephone. No excuses that he didn't have Skype up and running, so he'd missed trying to connect. She just hoped he wouldn't pull his typical avoidance routine and not speak to her; she hated when he did that - kind of ironic since she'd just done it to him. She hated herself sometimes.

She called his cell so as not to miss him at home. It rang three times and she was starting to think he probably was avoiding her. Finally on the forth ring he answered.

"Hey Daniel, it's me," Betty said.

"Oh, hi Betty." His greeting wasn't very warm but then again Betty could hardly blame him.

"Do you have a minute to talk?" She asked politely.

"Sure."

"Um…I wanted to apologize for…uh…being kind of distant last week."

No response from him. Okaaay, maybe she still couldn't blame him.

She continued. "I had Justin here, as you know, and we were just so busy sightseeing and then stuff with work and trying to fit everything in…"

"It's okay Betty." Daniel said, in exactly the same way he'd said it was okay she took the job in London. She was not an idiot, she knew this time that it definitely was not "no problemo".

"Daniel, I'm not stupid, I know that tone. It's not okay and I shouldn't have pushed you aside. I'm sorry." She knew her previous explanation was fairly pathetic so she tried a slightly different take. "Listen, Justin was here, and you know how we get on the video chat - we can go on for a long time. I just didn't want him to feel like he'd come all the way to London and I was ignoring him to chat with you on the computer."

"You could have just told me that."

"I know. I should have, I'm sorry." He seemed to believe her excuse and she felt relieved.

They didn't talk much longer after that. Daniel said that he was home and wanted to get something to eat and that the phone call was going to be expensive for Betty so they hung up.

* * *

><p>Daniel had read a few chapters of his text book and typed half a page, now he was staring off into space, distracted again by the same obsessive thoughts that had been plaguing him for days.<p>

He wasn't stupid. He was hurt, offended and a little annoyed but definitely not stupid. Justin had known absolutely nothing about Betty's laptop being crippled when he spoke to him. And her pathetic lie about avoiding him because Justin was there wasn't fooling anybody.

She had been acting weird since the launch party. Maybe bringing her family had been too extravagant and she was feeling uncomfortable about it. But that didn't make any sense because she'd seemed so thrilled they were there and so appreciative, she'd even told him she was grateful. No, it was something else.

He hadn't even done that much flirting at the launch, not compared to what he would have if it had been someone else. Despite how beautiful, confident and happy she looked he had controlled himself. This was Betty and he didn't want to freak her out. He needed to talk to her honestly first. He almost had later that night in the hotel, right before Justin had interrupted them. He was sure he would have told her at some point that weekend but they hadn't had any time alone. Not that he would begrudge the little time she got to spend with her family but still, it might have been nice to finally let her know what he was feeling. Unfortunately between their sight seeing and the work he'd had to do at the magazine, he hadn't had the opportunity.

At least he'd thought it would have been nice at the time but now he was kind of relieved he hadn't. Despite the lack of flirting, he'd obviously done something to make her uncomfortable.

Of course _she_ had called _him_, on his cell too which meant she had really wanted to talk to him. Perhaps he should just be a better man and push past this. He should take her at her word and forgive her. How many times had she done that for him?

He only wished he knew whether holding out hope for something more with Betty was futile. If it was anyone else, he would have just taken the chance, put it all out on the line and let her decide. But with anyone else he faced only a risk of rejection. With Betty the stakes were so much higher. He'd already experienced what it was like to put a wedge in their friendship and he didn't particularly care to relive that again.

In the end he just pushed past it. They started regularly connecting again although the Skyping had been cut back slightly. Whatever the reason, Daniel just went with it. She was acting completely normal again, not edgy or nervous and that was the main thing. Perhaps work was just stressing her out a little.

In any case, he decided to put the profession of his feelings on hold for a little bit. He wasn't calling it off completely; he just wanted to suss out the situation a little more before he jumped straight in. Besides there was something a little off putting about doing it long distance anyway. If there was even a slight chance she felt the same way, wouldn't it be a thousand times better to experience that in person? He really needed to start planning another trip to London and he could do it then.


	7. Love the One You're With

Betty was sitting on a soft, brown leather chair in the reception area of Lindsey's office. She was skimming one of the many Dunne publications available for browsing on the oval shaped coffee table while she waited patiently for her budget meeting with him.

Lindsey's office was simple but tasteful. The walls were a soothing shade of blue with seascape paintings on the wall. The plants and furniture were placed just so, probably on the advice of a Feng Shui consultant. It reflected his personality - warm and welcoming. She still couldn't get over how different his office was from the ornate elaborate décor of Bradford Meade's office with it's oak and marble, the few times she'd seen it.

The door to his office opened and his face lit up the second he saw her like it always seemed to. He gestured for the gentleman he was with to exit first. As soon as Betty saw his face she recognized him.

"Oh hello Betty. I'd like you to meet Vincent Bianchi. He's doing some work for Zen, one of the sister magazines. Mr. Bianchi this is Betty Suarez, she's the editor of our newest launch, Londonesque."

Vincent looked exactly the same as he had when she'd met him four years ago. His face was still unshaven - not exactly a full beard, just enough to give an air that he didn't care and he wasn't trying to impress anyone. She noticed he was wearing jeans and a casual looking button shirt which she thought was interesting considering he was meeting with one of Britian's most powerful names in publishing.

"Betty Suarez…Betty Suarez…? Why does that name sound familiar?" Vincent examined her face for signs of familiarity.

Betty smiled. "Hi Mr. Bianchi." She held her hand out to shake his. "We met about four years ago at Mode Magazine in New York. I was—"

"Daniel Meade's ballsy assistant, the Queens girl!" He smiled broadly and shook her hand. "Wow, you look…uh…very different."

Betty wasn't sure if she was more embarrassed at being referred to as "ballsy" in front of her new boss or that it was the first adjective he'd thought of to describe her.

"This one convinced me I needed to do a feature spread for Mode," he explained to Lindsey. "I wouldn't have stepped foot in the door there if it wasn't for her."

"Is that right?" Lindsey sounded impressed and looked at Betty.

"I don't know if I'd go that far. All I did was send a sausage and pepper hero sandwich."

"From Sal's…" Vincent added.

"The best sausage and pepper hero on the Eastern Seaboard," they said at the same time and then laughed, their eyes connecting.

He was very attractive in a rugged, unpolished way. Why hadn't she notice that the last time they'd met?

"I wouldn't have recognized you," he shook his head in disbelief.

She remembered the day she'd met Vincent, made up with big hair and makeup that Hilda had suggested would look good. Thankfully he'd seen her later looking like her old self when he'd come into Mode to do the photo shoot. She remembered him as being sure of himself but not overly cocky and completely unpretentious and unaffected by his rising popularity.

She looked down at her outfit bashfully. "I got rid of the braces, changed my hair and glasses. Just some stuff like that."

He nodded but he had a look of wonder as if he couldn't believe it was the same person in front of him. "You're a long way from home."

"I could say the same thing to you," she said.

"Yeah. I go where the jobs are. I have a fantastic chance to work with Zen and I'm looking forward to it." He smiled with charm.

"Don't let his false modesty fool you Betty. He is an artist in demand. We wooed him for his incredible talent, and to be honest, his name. Having him do a spread for a magazine like Zen will certainly increase sales."

"Aww, you flatter me," Vincent said to Lindsey but kept his eyes on Betty causing some butterflies in her stomach. He turned his attention back to Lindsey. "So I'll be here for the shoot tomorrow, nine am sharp."

Lindsey nodded. "Fifth floor."

"It's really nice to see you again Betty." Vincent smiled warmly, taking her hand to shake it before he left. His touch was so gentle it was almost a caress and she felt her face warm slightly.

* * *

><p>The next morning Betty arrived at her usual time of seven thirty in the morning. The quiet of the office at that time in the morning allowed her to concentrate her efforts on some of the more demanding tasks before everyone else arrived.<p>

Just after eight thirty she was feeling the need to stretch and grab a coffee so she went downstairs. She bought a coffee at the cart outside and had just stepped back indoors and was fastening the lid to the cup when someone arguing on his cell phone accidently swiped her from the side. The cup slipped out of her hand and landed with a huge splat on the floor in front of her. The hot coffee splashed over her new shoes and up onto her legs and skirt.

She turned in frustration.

"Hey, watch it…" She looked up and saw Vincent Bianchi looking apologetic.

"Betty Suarez, the Queens girl!" he exclaimed as it sunk in that he knew the person he'd just body checked. He hung up his phone quickly. "I'm so sorry." He bent down to pick up the cup in the big puddle of coffee on the floor. "Looks like I ruined your shoes."

"Oh, it'll wipe off, it's not a big deal." She grabbed some tissues out of her purse and walked out of the puddle over to a bench to sit and wipe them off.

Vincent followed her, tossed the cup in a garbage can and sat beside her on the bench.

"Can I buy you another coffee?" he asked, assessing the damage.

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Bianchi," she said as she pulled off a shoe to wipe it off easier.

"First of all, my name is Vincent. 'Mr. Bianchi' makes me feel like an old man. And second of all, of course I do; it's the least I can do for spilling yours. I'm such an oaf sometimes. What do you take?"

"Cream and sugar. Thanks, uh...Vincent." She smiled as he walked back out to the coffee cart.

He came back a few minutes later and handed her the cup. She had finished wiping the shoes and was dabbing at the spots on her yellow skirt. Hopefully the drycleaner would be able to get them off – thankfully there weren't too many.

"Aww, I got the skirt too."

"It's okay, don't worry about it. It's not my favourite one anyway."

"Let me make it up to you. How about I take you to dinner?"

"Seriously? Because you got coffee on my skirt?" Betty said incredulously.

"Yeah, dumping coffee on you is not exactly the best way to make an impression. I'd like a second chance. Besides, I don't know anyone in London except you, and I hate to go to restaurants by myself." He smiled.

She smiled back. "That would be nice."

"Great. Can I meet you here after work?"

"Sure," she beamed feeling a little excited about going out for dinner. "Uh…that is if you don't mind taking me out with coffee stains all over my clothes."

"I wouldn't care if you were wearing old rags," he replied with a smile.

Betty's stomach was filled with those butterflies again. Vincent was attractive and nice and this was definitely just the thing she needed to put that stupid crush on Daniel behind her. This stupid crush that was obviously just the result of an emotionally high evening combined with intense gratitude for bringing her family to the launch.

* * *

><p>When the end of the day came she was packing up her laptop when the receptionist buzzed her.<p>

"Ms. Suarez, there's a Mr. Bianchi here to see you."

"I'll be right up."

She gathered her purse and laptop bag and headed out to the reception area.

"Hi Vincent. I thought we were meeting downstairs."

"I have to confess, I was curious about your work and thought I'd try to catch you before you left."

"Really? You're curious about the magazine?" Betty smiled a little flattered.

"Yeah, of course. What tempts a Queens girl away from her family and the city she grew up in anyway?"

"Well the chance to run my own magazine, for one. Would you…um…like to see the office."

"I'd love to. And I'd love to see what you're creating too. I mean, if that's not top secret or anything."

" 'creating'," Betty smiled amused by his description.

"Yeah. You're an artist of sorts too, right? Only your medium is paper and pencil, or I guess it's more the computer now a days."

"I never really thought of it like that," she admitted. "I'd love to show you around, but I have to warn you, once you get me started I get a little excited and you might not shut me up," she grinned.

"I'll take my chances." He smiled in that super charming way again and her stomach flipped.

Betty led him back into the office and showed him around. Then she took him to see the layout of the first edition of the magazine. She spoke with enthusiasm about the articles that were included and rambled on about how challenging it was to decide which items should be included and which to scrap. Eventually she noticed him looking at her with a smirk so she stopped.

"What?" she asked him.

"Nothing. It's just I don't think I've ever seen anyone so excited in my life and I usually spend Christmas at my sister's with her three kids," he teased.

"Oh, I'm sorry." she blushed profoundly hoping he didn't think she was one of those people that went on and on about themselves all the time.

"Don't be. I think it's great."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Obviously you love your job. You shouldn't be embarrassed," he stepped forward and gently cupped her chin with his hand and ran his thumb over her warm cheek. Betty held his gaze, her heart pounding. "I'd love to hear more about it over supper. I'm getting really hungry," he admitted almost apologetically.

"Me too. So…uh…maybe we should go."

He nodded but didn't move or removed his hand. Betty pulled away first, and it felt a little awkward but she masked it with some questions.

"So how was the shoot?" She turned to pick up her bags that she'd discarded on the floor in all her enthusiasm.

He took the laptop for her and they started walking out to the front.

"Great. Lindsey is really fantastic to work for. He gives me all the creative freedom I need. Unfortunately not all of his editors have the same philosophy."

Betty nodded. "Is this the first time you've worked for him?"

"No. I did some stuff for one of his other magazines a few years ago." He held the door of the office open for her and they walked out into the hall by the elevators. Betty pressed the button.

"So have you been doing much magazine work since I last saw you at Mode?"

"It's funny you should ask that. That feature spread was like jolt to my career. I mean, things were going pretty great before that but after that edition of Mode came out the phone wouldn't stop ringing. I guess I owe you a big 'thank you' for convincing me to do the shoot. I took a few more magazine shoots after that but mostly I was finally able to focus my time on some more creative projects of my own and sell quite a few pictures from my gallery, most of it online. I even recently sold a few to some big names. My reputation is getting out there a bit. I guess that's why Lindsey called me to do this special edition of Zen featuring my pictures."

"Oh. I didn't realize it was a special edition."

"Yeah. It's an anniversary edition or something. I don't know. I just take the pictures," he grinned boyishly. "It's still hush hush and I shouldn't be saying anything but Lindsey mentioned something about a book as well…a photojournalism thing."

"Your own photojournalism book! Wow, that's impressive."

"Ah, so am I making a much better impression than a clutz who knocks coffee on you then?" he flirted.

"Definitely." She looked down bashfully and then back up into his eyes just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. "Uh, that's for us."

The rest of the evening went much the same way. Betty found that she and Vincent had a lot in common. They shared stories of Queens and their favourite spots. They reminisced about old high school teachers. All of it interspersed with looks that lasted just a second longer than normal, or flirtatious comments that made Betty blush.

She learned that Vincent had been a little troubled as a teen never feeling like he quite fit in until he discovered how much he loved photography. He dreamed of being a photographer so he worked at tiny portrait studios and apprenticed a wedding photographer for a couple of years until eventually he landed his first magazine spread. His father, who had been trying to convince him it was a completely impractical career choice and that he should give up and help run the family business, came on board the day he sold his first still life photo. He convinced him to open a gallery and even helped to finance it.

"That's wonderful to have such great family support," Betty commented.

"Yeah, they're terrific."

"My dad knows your dad actually," she admitted.

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's how I found out you grew up so close to me."

"Small world, huh?" His gaze lingered again.

"Yeah," she replied softly.

Goodbye crush - it was halfway out the door already.

* * *

><p>"I had such an amazing day. You'll never guess who I had dinner with tonight." Betty was radiantly excited as she spoke to Daniel about it.<p>

"No, you're right, I probably won't, so you better just tell me." He couldn't help smiling; she was so cute when she got like this.

"Aww, come on Daniel, don't be spoilsport. Just take a guess," she begged with a grin.

He exaggerated a sigh. "Okay…um…Lindsey." He just threw something out.

She was obviously disappointed in that attempt. "Why would that be special?"

"You never said it was _special_," he reminded her.

"No, but why would I be asking you to guess then?" she said with slight frustration.

"I don't know Betty, why _would_ you be asking me to guess?"

"Try again."

"I don't know," he put some thought into it first before answering. "Christina."

"Well, at least that attempt was better," she smiled. "But wrong. Try again."

"Do we seriously have to play this game?" Daniel asked.

"It's fun," she grinned. "I'm waiting."

He shook his head and then answered out of nowhere. "Daniel Craig?"

"James Bond? How would I end up having dinner with Daniel Craig?"

"I don't know; maybe you're doing a story on him. You just asked me to guess so I did."

"I suppose that's reasonable, but still wrong," her eyes lit up with amusement. She was obviously enjoying this. "Try again."

"The Pope."

"Okay, now you're just being stupid," she said half annoyed.

"Just tell me," Daniel said.

"Vincent Bianchi." Betty grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Really?" Daniel was intrigued.

"Yeah. He's doing a shoot for Zen, one of Lindsey's other publications and I ran into him in Lindsey's office the other day. Then I literally ran into him this morning and spilled my coffee all over my shoes, so he felt guilty and took me out to dinner."

"He took you out for dinner because he felt guilty for spilling coffee on your shoes?" That sounded a little suspicious to Daniel.

"Yeah. Well that, and he said he didn't know anybody in London and he didn't like to eat alone," she responded.

Daniel felt like there was a rock in his stomach. A classic line and Betty didn't even clue in. Or maybe she did and just wasn't admitting it to him.

"So where did you go?" Daniel couldn't help himself his curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Some place called Indigo. It's really nice."

"Indigo? Never heard of it."

"Have you heard of very many London restaurants in New York Daniel?" Betty asked smartly.

"I have been to London a few times Betty," he reminded her.

"I know but I'm sure you haven't heard of all the restaurants. Anyway, it was fun, and he invited me out for dinner again on Friday. He said he wants to try someplace called The Savoy Grill," she shrugged.

"The Savoy Grill?" Daniel repeated. "That one I have heard of."

"Really?"

"That's Gordon Ramsay's restaurant."

"Oh. He said he had reservations for 'The Chef's Table' or something."

"Wow."

"What?"

"That's the table where you get to watch all the action. I wonder how he got it at such short notice." Daniel said half to himself.

"Well, he is a pretty famous photographer. I mean, that's why he's here in the first place, because Lindsey wanted his name and photos to give Zen a boost in sales."

"So, he's using his name to take you to a special dinner at Gordon Ramsey's restaurant, huh? It sounds like someone is trying to impress you."

"I don't know. Vincent's not really like that," Betty said skeptically shaking her head.

"All guys are like that, Betty." Daniel still couldn't believe how naïve she was sometimes. "Your second date with the famous photographer and he books 'The Chef's Table' at a world renowned restaurant. I wonder what he has up his sleeve for the third?"

"Why do you sound so cynical? He's a nice guy Daniel, and anyway, tonight wasn't a date. Uh…at least I don't think it was. He _was_ a little flirty," she bit her lip shyly stifling a girlish grin and Daniel felt his heart sink further. "Friday might really be a date though. Okay, now I'm nervous."

"What's to be nervous about? You went out with him tonight."

"Yeah, but I don't know if Friday is officially a date or not. That means I don't really know what to expect…uh…at the end of the night."

Daniel hadn't thought of that. He felt a little panicked.

"Just because the guy buys you dinner doesn't mean you have to sleep with him or anything."

"Thanks for the advice Dad," she teased. "I didn't mean sleep with him. Hello, it's our first date, or maybe our second, I'm not sure. I meant whether or not he would kiss me or something."

"Oh." Daniel felt a little like an idiot suggesting Betty would sleep with the guy, she hardly knew him. But he didn't rest on that worry too long; his mind was too busy trying to process the "or something" she'd suggested. But then something else occurred to him. "So he didn't try to kiss you tonight?"

"No."

He felt slightly buoyed. Maybe that was a good sign.

"Do you think that means something?" she asked when he didn't respond.

He paused for half a second assessing whether to be honest and admit he had no idea or whether he should use this as an opportunity. "Well, it's just that if he didn't try to kiss you then obviously he didn't really think of it as a date," Daniel replied casually, feeling only moderately guilty. He wasn't sabotaging anything, really, he was just dissuading the development of her interest in Vincent.

"Really?"

"Sure. If it was a date he'd try to kiss you," he reasoned.

"Oh. Well, he didn't try to kiss me but then maybe the opportunity didn't really present itself."

"If a guy wants to kiss you he'll find a way to kiss you," he said sounding much more assured than he felt.

The irony in that statement was mocking him. Hadn't he desperately wanted to kiss her the entire weekend he was in London?

"Maybe he's just shy?" she suggested timidly.

"Does Vincent Bianchi strike you as shy?"

"No."

"Well, then…"

"I guess you're right. Of course, we're just two friends hanging out. I mean it's pretty unrealistic to think that _the_ Vincent Bianchi would want to take me on a date."

Now Daniel felt guilty. He hated when Betty devalued how attractive she was. And as much as he didn't want to encourage feelings for this guy, he also didn't want her being down on herself.

"I didn't mean it that way Betty. It's perfectly reasonable that someone like Vincent would want to take you on a date."

"Really?"

"Of course. You are a fantastic person. You are beautiful and funny and smart. Any guy would be proud to go out with you." He felt like he was dying a little as he said it.

She smiled bashfully. "Well, now that you mention it, I think he was definitely sending some signals."

His heart sank even further.

"What kind of signals?" He was pretty sure he didn't want to know but he could help asking.

"Just the usual stuff: long gazes, lingering hands."

_Lingering hands_? What the hell did that mean? His imagination was wreaking havoc with his emotions.

"I guess I should just relax about it, right? Whatever happens, happens. It's not like it's serious or anything. We're just two people hanging out and having fun together."

"Sure," Daniel agreed outwardly. Inwardly he was reeling over what exactly "having fun together" meant.

* * *

><p>It turns out that spending time with Vincent definitely helped Betty to forget the crush she had on Daniel. Vincent was just as sweet as she'd hoped. He was warm and funny and she really liked him. As long as she was with him her feelings for Daniel were a distant, foolish memory.<p>

Things with Daniel seemed better than ever now. There was no awkwardness and they spoke about Vincent the way they used to about Henry and Matt. The timing could not have been more perfect.

* * *

><p>Betty's new found friendship was killing Daniel. Just when he'd gotten to the point of wanting to tell her how he felt she was in a completely different place. If they were in the same city or even the same country he might have told her how he felt anyway with the hopes of quashing the new blossoming relationship. But he wasn't – he was on the other side of the Atlantic at a complete disadvantage to compete.<p>

How would that conversation even go anyway? _Hey Betty, I know Vincent's there, in London, and I'm three thousand miles away but I think you should dump him so we can have a totally unfulfilling digital relationship. Just think of the things we could do over Skype._

It was so frustrating. And if he couldn't legitimately compete than he needed to just wait this out. Surely it wasn't anything serious. Betty was lonely, missing New York and Vincent was…well he was there, that's all.

That kept him satisfied for a little while until one afternoon he was sitting at the kitchen table, catching up on Facebook. Lurking around Betty's page he saw Henry's name on the list of friends. Three names underneath Henry was Gio. And two names underneath Gio was Matt. Suddenly he was struck by a notion that hadn't occurred to him previously. Betty was kind of into serial monogamy. She didn't do casual. And that didn't bode well for him. This could turn into another Henry or Matt.

He moped about that realization for two days before deciding to take action.

Holding out, waiting, biding his time was stupid. High caliber stupid. Like Betty-dating-Henry-when-she-knew-he-was-leaving-to-have-a-baby-with-his-ex-girlfriend kind of stupid. It was heartbreak waiting to happen. He needed to try to get his mind off of Betty completely. It was definitely time for Daniel Meade to get back out on the social scene.


	8. Doppleganger

"Hey Mom." Daniel leaned against the door frame of Claire's office on the third floor of the Meade building.

"Hello Darling. What a nice surprise. To what do I owe the honour of this visit?" Claire put the photos she was studying down on the top of her mahogany desk.

"I just popped in to say 'Hi'. I'm meeting Marisa for coffee at the Starbucks around the corner and I thought I'd drop in for a minute beforehand."

"Well, I'm really glad you did," Claire smiled.

Daniel was finally dating someone again and Claire was extremely relieved. He had met her at the gym or something. She couldn't exactly remember all the details but the specifics didn't matter. It only mattered that he didn't seem stuck anymore. She was a little disappointed he couldn't bring himself to tell Betty his feelings but it was his decision and she needed to respect that.

"So when do I get to meet her?" she pushed.

She knew they hadn't been dating long but finally it seemed like Daniel was moving forward and she was intensely curious about this new woman.

"I think it's still a little early for that. We've only been out on a couple of dates. It's kind of premature to start bringing her home to meet my family, especially as dysfunctional as we are. It might scare her away," he joked.

"Oh come on Darling, we're not as bad as all that. Besides, I didn't mean meet your family, just your mother." She grinned at him. "It doesn't have to be official or anything. Oh, I know, I was thinking of getting a coffee myself. Why don't I come down and meet her now."

"Mom…" Daniel started to object, his discomfort at the suggestion very evident.

"Oh, relax Daniel, I'm not going to embarrass you, or cramp your style; I won't even hang around. I just want to meet her."

"Fine," he sighed reluctantly.

They entered the coffee shop and Daniel waved to a woman sitting alone at a table by the window. They walked over.

"Marisa, this is my mom Claire Meade. She wanted to meet you."

"Hello Mrs. Meade." Marisa stood up and offered her hand.

"Hello, it's very nice to meet you," Claire said politely with a small shake of the hand. She had to force a smile despite the eerie goosebumps that were forming on her skin.

She was a tiny brunette of Latino heritage. She had long brown hair and dark brown eyes. All of her features were surprisingly familiar, the only thing missing were the glasses. Claire blinked a couple of times a little shell shocked.

"Mom?" Daniel sounded concerned and Claire snapped back to reality, releasing Marisa's hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking about work," she lied.

"Would you like to join us Mrs. Meade?" Marisa asked politely.

"That is very sweet of you to offer, my dear, but I really should get back to my desk." She'd promised Daniel she wouldn't hang around, and she planned on keeping that promise; not only that, but she wasn't certain she could stay without staring the entire time.

"Sure, of course," Marisa replied, smiling a very pretty smile - not quite as radiant as the counterpart in England whom Claire was sure Daniel was substituting her for, but still quite lovely.

Claire excused herself to go get her coffee before heading back to her office. She was a little shaken by the event. She knew Daniel was having a particularly difficult time with Betty being so far away, but this was just…creepy. Of course, it was possible that Daniel just happened to like this girl who happened to be dead ringer for Betty. She looked back over her shoulder at the couple at the table. They were smiling and talking. Marisa brushed her hair off of her shoulder flirtatiously. Claire turned back just as the barista behind the counter asked for her order. After giving it to her and paying, she shook her head. It was possible, but highly unlikely; if she squinted she couldn't tell the difference between them.

* * *

><p>A few minutes after Claire left, Marc wandered in.<p>

"Daniel Meade, as I live and breathe. So you haven't fallen off of the face of the earth."

"Hi Marc." Daniel now questioned the wisdom of picking this particular Starbucks; it was way to close to Mode. "This is a friend of mine, Marisa."

"Hell-oh-my God!" he said as he turned to look at her. Daniel thought it was a rather rude greeting. Marc looked almost frightened.

"Don't mind him," Daniel said to Marisa. "The verdict is still out on his sanity."

Marc gave a sarcastic little smile. "I don't think it's _my_ sanity that should be in question," he mumbled.

"What?" Daniel asked.

"What?" Marc replied, pretending he hadn't said anything even though Daniel was sure he'd heard something. "So Marisa, you look awfully familiar. Have we met before?"

It seemed a relatively harmless comment but the way Marc was looking at him with huge eyes and not Marisa, when he asked it made Daniel think it was anything but.

"I don't think so," Marisa answered sweetly, shaking her head.

Turning his attention back to Marisa, Marc commented on her outfit. "I love the wrap dress. That shade of plum is fabulous on you. Valentino?"

"Actually it's a new Jason Wu," she answered obviously surprised and flattered.

"Marc works for Mode," Daniel said by way of explanation.

She nodded understanding.

"Well it's nice to meet you. I'll let you have your coffee," Marc politely excused himself and turned toward the counter. "Oh my God, the anti-frump," he murmured under his breath.

He pulled out his cell phone as he walked away and Daniel could have sworn he took a picture or two...weird.

* * *

><p>Marc was flabbergasted. He needed proof of what he'd just witnessed. He snapped a couple pictures on his cell phone as he walked away. Daniel Meade was having coffee with a Betty Suarez look alike. <em>Look alike<em>, that was an understatement. She was Betty's doppelganger, her clone, like they were twins separated at birth, except this one had style. Actually, she was more like Betty from another dimension.

Ugh, two Bettys – he shuddered.

It was immediately followed by a sigh as he exited the coffee shop and stared up at the towering Meade building. It was times like this – when he caught a glimpse into the former way of life at Mode - when Mode felt like only a shell of its former self. During the average work week, there was no Betty around with hideous outfits and humiliation to spice up his day, and no Daniel, stepping over his own feet and doing things like _this_.

Mode was just work now. He loved his job and it was everything he'd always hoped it would be, but he certainly missed the social aspect. There was absolutely nobody to make fun of anymore. Even Cecil, in accounting, had been to the dermatologist and the doctor had given him some miracle cream. Not that making fun of anyone would be the same without Amanda there. She was his partner in contemptuous crime, the mocking Thelma to his jeering Louise. And that was the crux of it. Oh, how he missed Amanda at Mode.

Take this incident for example. Sure, he could send the picture to her – and he probably would - but she was meeting with a client and it might be a while before she got back to him. It would be hours before the ridicule could begin. And this was almost too good; it was torture to have to wait.

* * *

><p>Later that evening Daniel was watching television when his mother called.<p>

"Hello Dear," Claire greeted him.

"Hi Mom, what's up? Any big news since I saw you this afternoon?"

"Well, no _news_ exactly, but I am kind of calling about that." Claire wasn't sure how forthright to be about this. "Marisa seems like a lovely girl."

"Yeah, she is Mom."

"That's wonderful Daniel. And you seem happy." She was very hesitant.

"Okay, what's this all about? You have that tone."

"What tone?"

"You know, your tone. The one that sounds all supportive on the surface but has underlying inflections of terror."

"I don't have a tone like that."

"Sure you do. It's the same tone you gave me when I was twelve and said I wanted a tattoo, right before you poked me repeatedly with a safety pin and told me it would be a thousand times worse than that."

"Well, you never did get the tattoo," she said justifying her actions.

"So what is it?"

She took a deep breath. She really needed to approach this delicately. "I just wondered if you thought Marisa reminded you of anyone."

There was a slight pause. "No, I don't think so." Daniel sounded sincere.

"Oh. Okay then." She wasn't about to let it go completely but she wasn't sure how to continue. How could he not see it?

"Why? Who does she remind you of?" Daniel asked opening the door up again.

Claire rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and fiddled anxiously with the necklace she was wearing. She was certain he would not be happy with what she was about to say but she couldn't in good conscience leave it unsaid, it was just _that_ disturbing.

"Well, she kind of reminds me a little of…uh…Betty." Claire braced herself for the angry onslaught.

"Betty! Don't be ridiculous, she's nothing like Betty." Daniel was just as defensive as she thought he might be.

"No? Well, I don't know about her personality, but strictly by appearances, from where I stand she is Betty's double." No point trying to be sensitive any longer - clearly, this boy needed a wakeup call.

"Mom, that's crazy!"

"Is it really? Think about it for a minute, Daniel," she implored him.

"I'm sorry but I just don't see it," Daniel replied adamantly.

"The olive skin, the long dark brown hair, the big brown eyes…"

"Lots of women have features like that…" he tried stopping her rant.

"Her small stature, the full lips, the shape of her face, the beautiful radiant smile…the _braces_!" The sooner he realized this, the better for everyone.

There was a brief pause. "That would be kind of…sick." He was obviously upset by the suggestion.

There was another, longer pause in the conversation where Claire assumed he was thinking it through; she waited patiently.

"Oh my God, I'm sick," he said after almost an entire minute of silence.

Claire could picture his heartbroken face and his limp body slumping on the sofa as he said it. She immediately felt a little guilty.

"Daniel Darling, you are not sick, just a little confused. Although, now might be a good time to make an appointment with that therapist I've been trying to get you to see."

"As compassionate as ever Mom," Daniel said sarcastically.

"I am very compassionate and I'm also serious about the therapist. I think you might have a few things you need to talk about. You miss Betty, that's obvious. And what's even more obvious is that pretending your feelings for her don't exist is making them come out in some very interesting ways."

He was quiet for a second and then he said very softly, "So what do I do?"

"What I've been suggesting you do all along: Tell Betty how you feel."

"But Mom…"

"It's either that or I can start posting up warning notices around Manhattan for all the petite framed Latina women."

"Mom…"

"Sorry Darling, I couldn't help myself."

* * *

><p>Much to Marc's dismay, Amanda didn't find his discovery nearly as amusing as he had hoped.<p>

"Oh my God!" Amanda exclaimed when Marc showed her the picture from the coffee shop on his cell phone.

Marc smiled, pleased by the exuberant reaction until Amanda continued. "I can't believe Daniel is wearing that shirt with those pants."

"Not Daniel, Amanda, his date!" Marc snatched the phone back and held it up – too close - in front her face pointing at Marisa.

She pushed it back a little so she could focus on it.

"Aww. That's kind of sad…and sweet." Amanda put her feet up on the coffee table in their living room and continued filing her nails.

Marc gave her an odd look. "It's hilarious," he corrected her.

"No Marc." Amanda stopped filing and looked serious. "Obviously Daniel has repressed feelings for Betty and he's experiencing subconscious transference because he misses having her around."

"Where did you get _that_ from?" Marc screwed his face up in disbelief.

"There was an article in Elle," Amanda said as she filed her nail again.

Marc stood there shocked for a minute before adding sweetly, "Mandy, you didn't just look at the pictures." He was proud of her.

She looked proud as well. "I just realized that someday, when all this beauty fades..."

"Amanda, we talked about this," Marc interrupted.

"I know, but there's only so much surgery a body can handle, and I want to have more to offer than just fabulous taste, you know?"

He nodded and then shook his head as if to clear it from distractions. "Never mind that. Back to Daniel. What's happened to you? When did you get so _compassionate_?" He said the word with slight disgust. "It's like I don't even know you anymore."

Amanda sighed woefully. "I know, right? Every time I try to be catty or mean I wonder what Betty would do in the same situation and I end up not being able to."

Marc looked at her with sympathy, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Aww Mandy, I'm sorry." He understood the Suarez Syndrome – that sickening influence of niceness that Betty had on you over time - as much as the next guy. Thankfully, her powers only seemed to influence the weak-minded and he was immune.

"There was a time when I could do almost anything without remorse," she said, reminiscing sadly.

"I know," Marc agreed. "Once upon a time you would be right there with me when I posted this picture of Marisa and this one of Betty side-by-side on my Facebook page with the caption 'Which is the real Betty Suarez?' and this picture right after it…" He showed the other picture he'd taken at the coffee shop with both Daniel and Marisa in it, "with the caption 'Daniel couldn't tell either'."

Amanda's face dropped. "You're not going to do that, are you?"

Marc looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Of course I am, Amanda."

The Suarez Syndrome was one thing but stopping him from having his fun was completely different.

"No Marc, you can't," she protested. "You can't interfere that way. We need to try to give those kids a chance. Daniel obviously has some kind of feelings for Betty. Maybe he just needs to realize that and then maybe this could be the real thing for them."

"Okay, have completely lost your mind, woman? First of all, I'm sure Daniel's feelings are like what you feel for a stray that you were used to having around and then one day you find out it was hit by a car. He's just missing his furry stray, so he picked up another one. And secondly, if by some bizarre turn of events, hell froze over and Daniel actually felt romantic feelings for Betty…." He tried not to gag. "He's obviously afraid to tell her so nothing is ever going to happen."

"How do you know he's afraid?"

"Because he hasn't done it yet. If he had feelings for her, what – other than fear - could possibly stop him from telling her?"

"Daniel has dated, and slept with, celebrities and supermodels, why would he be afraid to tell Betty how he feels about her?"

"It would be the deepest form of rejection, Amanda," Marc explained but Amanda still looked confused so he elaborated. "Let me put it this way: Imagine you spend most of your life eating in the finest culinary establishments in Manhattan - five star restaurants with world renowned chefs using only the finest ingredients, the hostess always welcomes you with a smile and there is never a concern that you'd ever be turned away. In fact, the restaurants call you and fawn at your feet because they want you to dine there." Amanda nodded to indicate she was following, or at least trying to. "Now, imagine after a lifestyle like that, you take your first visit to Taco Bell and the pimply faced manager on duty won't let you in."

"They let anyone into Taco Bell, Marc," Amanda said, obviously missing the point.

He sighed but was patient. "Betty is Daniel's Taco Bell, Mandy" He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

There was a slight pause as she processed it.

"Ooooh, I get it."

"The restaurant connoisseur shunned by the fast food joint. It would be a tragic story if it wasn't so fascinating," Marc added.

"Oh, come on Marc, is it really realistic to think that Betty would reject Daniel?" Amanda asked in disbelief.

"I don't know, Amanda. I couldn't even presume to know what goes on in her mind. The woman thinks velour is a perfectly acceptable fabric for a pant suit."

"I think Betty is a little fashioned challenged, not blind. She'd never reject Daniel. Daniel just needs to be pushed a little into admitting his feelings. I think we need to do something to help."

"Hold on there Dr. Phil, _we_ don't need to do anything. It's bad enough that the wonderboy has temporarily lost his mind – if, in fact that has happened. We are not sticking our noses in, at least not to be altruistic about it. But if you want to help me make fun…" he held up his cell phone to indicate the pictures he had taken.

"Well we're not doing that," Amanda said with the utmost conviction.

"_You _aren't doing that," Marc corrected her. "I still enjoy my freedom from compassion and guilt and have no immediate plans to change or to be Suarez-ized."

"Please Marc." She begged him. "Please don't post it, for my sake."

He sighed in exasperation. "Fine." He barked unhappily. "I won't post it…for you."

* * *

><p>It was sheer terror that motivated Daniel to make that first appointment with his mother's therapist. Too many episodes of Criminal Minds haunted him. Didn't stalkers and serial killers start out like this?<p>

After just one session he felt better, though. Apparently he was not developing into a raging psychopath. The bizarre Betty substitution was not a sign of him loosing his marbles. It was some kind of defense mechanism that had something to do with emotional repression manifesting itself with a type of anthropomorphic sublimation and blah, blah, blah. The therapist had used a bunch of lingo he didn't really understand but that gave him flashbacks of first year psychology exams. He didn't really understand most of her explanation, just the part about him not being crazy. Oh, and he certainly didn't miss her recommendation that the best way to prevent it from happening again was to go directly to the source of the internal conflict and confront it: He needed to tell Betty how he was feeling. Now, more than ever, Daniel needed to plan his trip to London. Why was he procrastinating anyway, it's not like he was super busy?

The therapist also said Daniel had a number of other issues and it would be helpful if he dealt with some of those so he was going to start meeting with her regularly.

* * *

><p>"You're seeing a therapist?" Betty was confused when Daniel had accidentally let it slip during one of their Skype sessions.<p>

Daniel hated therapist, psychologists, psychiatrists…anything that implied he might actually need help dealing with something.

"You mean, socially, right? As in: You're dating one." She tried to clarify it and that was the only meaning that made any sense to her.

He looked at her as if he was trying to figure out if she was joking. "No Betty, I mean professionally, as in: She's trying to fix my head. She's my mom's therapist."

"Oh. Really?" She couldn't hide her shock.

"Yes, really. Why? What?" Betty could tell he was being insecure.

"Nothing. It's just, you hate therapy, remember?"

"Yeah, but I thought I'd give it a chance."

"Oh, well that's great." She was supportive even thought she didn't understand his sudden change of heart.

"Really?"

"Yes. I think it's terrific. It's probably about time," She added trying to be even more supportive.

"Okay, what exactly do you mean by that?" He was defensive and Betty realized how it must have sounded.

"No. Nothing. I, uh, just meant, you know, you've had a lot of traumatic experiences in your life. It's probably time you talked to someone about them, that's all." She desperately tried to recover.

"Oh." He sounded dubious. "So you think it's the right thing for me to be doing?" He was obviously asking her opinion.

"Definitely. Definitely a smart thing."

He visibly seemed to relax.

"So are you…um…depressed?" She spoke cautiously.

"No. Why?"

"I was just wondering what happened to make you decide to go to a therapist now." She replied, noticing him tense again.

"Nothing. Nothing happened. My mom convinced me now was a good time, that's all." He was sharp and defensive.

"Okaaay. Sorry." She raised her hands in surrender. "So what do you talk about? What is she telling you?"

"Uh…" He was really hesitant. "It's just…it's kind of…um…personal."

Betty was a little surprised, and slightly wounded. "It's personal" was a little ironic coming from him. She knew all sorts of things about him she wished she didn't – "too much information" was like an axiom for their friendship - and now here he was pulling the "it's personal" card when she was showing an interest. She wasn't asking for all the nitty-gritty details, she just wondered what it was like.

She wanted to ask him if he meant it was personal in the same way that the mole on his "lower back" was personal; or if he meant it was personal in the way that knowing your boss used to keep a package of condoms in his top desk drawer for "emergencies" was personal. But she didn't. That would just upset him she was sure.

Instead she just said "Right…" and held her tongue.

"I'm just not quite ready to talk about it, with anyone yet." He obviously sensed she was slighted.

"I know, of course. It's okay, I understand," she said, desperately trying to.

"Do you?" He sounded so worried that she started to feel guilty.

It really wasn't her business and she was sure there was a lot of emotional baggage surrounding his childhood and family issues that he was particularly sensitive about. She needed to understand this would be hard for him.

"Yeah, I really do," she said more sincerely.

He audibly sighed with relief and looked so vulnerable that she felt strangely protective of him all of a sudden. She found herself hoping this therapist was trustworthy, reputable and wise…maybe even wise in an old way. Yes, old would be good and maybe even a little unattractive.

"I hope you know I wasn't trying to pry. I just wondered what it was like, that's all." She wanted to clarify the intention of her questions.

"I know. It's good. It's been very helpful so far. It wasn't at all what I thought it would be. No inkblots, hypnosis or shock therapy or anything," Daniel joked.

Betty chuckled. "Yet…" she said playing along. "I'm sure they put off the shock therapy for at least a few appointments."

He laughed that time. He suddenly seemed nervous when he said "Uh…I'm going to talk to you about it in a little while though, probably in person the next time I come to London. Would that be okay?"

"Of course." Betty didn't know why he would be nervous about asking a question like that, or why he would need to reserve it until they were together but she didn't push it. "So, is your therapist…nice?" She knew she was prying into territory she probably shouldn't but she couldn't help herself.

She had an irrational dread that this woman might take advantage of him in his vulnerable state; that would be a complete violation of professional ethics. She kept thinking of the other therapist - the one he ended up sleeping with. But this one wouldn't do that, would she? Daniel could be decidedly adorable and irresistible when he was looking vulnerable, particularly when he pulled in his top lip like he sometimes did in his most unguarded moments

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't know, it's all pretty professional."

"Right, of course." Professional was definitely good. "Is she young?"

The question slipped out as if for a moment her mouth had been temporarily dislocated from her brain. She knew exactly what was coming too. The way you know you're about to get into a car accident right before it happens and everything seems to be going in slow motion but you're helpless to stop it.

"What are you really asking Betty?" he was offended and hurt.

"Nothing."

He spoke again before she had time to back peddle.

"I know my track record isn't the best but that was a long time ago. This is completely different." He was defensive again.

This conversation was really not going well tonight – they seemed completely out of sync.

"I know, I'm sorry. I know you've changed. It was more about her. I was just concerned that's all."

"She's my mom's age Betty. Does that make you feel any better?"

He was clearly upset and probably for a good reason. Betty felt like dirt.

"I'm really sorry Daniel." She couldn't really say anything else.

He just nodded solemnly.

"Can we start this conversation over?" she asked hoping he'd forgive her and give her a second chance.

"Yeah."

"Ok." She took a deep breath. "I'm really glad you're seeing a professional to help you cope with all the garbage that life has thrown at you. Really, I mean it. And if and when you ever want to share any stuff from your sessions with me, I will be totally supportive and non-judgemental."

"Thank you," he said softly and she smiled at him.


	9. All Roads Lead to London

_So sorry for the delay in updating. I got a little stuck trying to bridge a few pieces of the story and while I was working that out I got inspired by a completely different idea so I ended up rewriting a very large section. Anyway, it's a long update so hopefully that makes up for it._

* * *

><p>Claire sat at her desk reviewing the report the forensic accountants had sent about ModeUK. She sighed and shook her head before she stood up and wandered over to the refreshment tray on the table in the corner and scooped some ice into a glass, pouring a bottle of soda water on top.<p>

It was times like this when she missed Bradford the most. He had seemed to thrive on the adrenaline a business crisis created and always knew what to do. She'd taken over a lot of the control of Meade Publications with Alexis out of the country and Daniel seemingly uninterested in taking charge of the company, but it was much more out of duty than a desire to be the one running it, even though she had proven herself to be quite the capable business woman. But when something catastrophic to the business happened she wished she didn't have anything to do with Meade at all. It was all so much responsibility.

She had called Daniel to ask him to come over so they could discuss it and she'd left an urgent message with Alexis to call her back as soon as she could.

As she was standing there, in front of the window, miserably contemplating the specific options ahead of them for ModeUK, one of them stood out as slightly more favourable than the others. She started to see the smallest ray of hope in the midst of all this mess and the tension in her shoulders began to recede.

"Hey Mom, what's up? You sounded worried on the phone." Daniel's voice from the doorway broke her train of thought.

She turned around. "I'm glad you came so quickly Darling. It's the report from the accountants in London. It seems you were right to be suspicious. Sit down and we'll look over it and discuss our options."

About an hour later, they'd thoroughly reviewed the accountants' file and recommendations. A fraudulent Editor-in-Chief had been expensing unnecessary items, creating phony expenses, and embezzling money. The books had been doctored with the help of the head accountant who was in on it. It had been happening for well over a year.

Daniel raked his hand through his hair and stood up to walk over to grab a drink for himself.

"Obviously the Editor-in-Chief and the Head Accountant have been dismissed which leaves us with a publication that has no one in charge, no direction, and an issue due to go to print in less than three weeks," Claire said.

Daniel wandered back to the desk with the glass of water in his hand. "So what do we do?"

"Well, I suppose we could do the drastic thing and cut our losses, but that kind of seems a little extreme at this point."

"You mean shut down operations?" Daniel clarified calmly before adding "Mom, that means putting a lot of people out of work, and without any kind of warning." He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand as he placed the glass on the desk.

"I know Darling, it wouldn't be my first choice either."

"Well, what other options do we have? Is it possible to save the magazine?"

"It's hard to tell at this point, but unless we put someone capable in the EIC office immediately, the magazine will miss getting the next issue to the printers. If that happens, the chances of saving the magazine will be even slimmer. This lack of direction is surely making our advertisers nervous as it is. There may be no surviving a missed issue."

Daniel exhaled. "So we need to get someone in then. That's our only choice. I don't think we should just give up so easily. I guess we have to hire someone. Is there anyone on staff who's capable?"

"Not really, no one with any real experience. If the magazine was healthy then maybe we could take a chance but I think we'd be putting a nail in its coffin to throw someone into the job who has no idea what they're doing. And obviously we have no time to hire someone from outside if we want to get the next issue out." Claire took a deep breath. "I know this isn't exactly the direction you wanted to take your life right now, but it only has to be temporary, Dear."

"What are you talking about Mom?"

"Well, Daniel, if we want to save the magazine, then someone who knows what they are doing needs to step up; that means either you or Alexis."

"Well, Alexis is closer," Daniel reasoned but looking like he was thinking about all the implications.

"Yes, but ModeUK needs someone full time and we can't ask her to move away from D.J. when they've started getting so close."

"So that leaves me."

"Yes." She paused expectantly.

Something inside her knew he wouldn't argue it. That given even just a couple of seconds, he'd see that moving to London to help ModeUK would be beneficial and not just to the magazine. Of course pointing that out to him at this point would be detrimental. She needed to let him figure that out on his own.

"Okay then, I guess I'm going to London."

"Are you certain, Daniel? You were so excited about going back to school." She figured she needed to at least seem like she hated that this was putting a wrinkle in his plans.

"So I'll go to school after we figure this stuff out at Mode," he looked hopeful and Claire knew it had to do with much more than school or rescuing ModeUK.

"I don't mean to pressure you Darling, but you do realize that the magazine needed you there yesterday?"

"Of course. I'll go home and get everything ready right now."

They said a decent good-bye, after all, Claire really had no idea when he'd be back in New York.

Sometime around lunch Alexis called her.

"Hey Mom. Sorry I took so long to get back to you there was a bit of an emergency here. Your message sounded urgent."

"Everything is under control now, Dear. Daniel was right about the problems at Mode in London and we've had to dismiss the Editor-in-Chief and the head accountant. But He has decided to go and step in temporarily to see if the magazine can be saved."

"Oh. So Daniel's moving to London?"

"For a little while, to see if he can turn things around."

"I wish I would have called sooner. I'm sure I could arrange my schedule to be at Mode during the week and spend time with D.J. on the weekends."

"Alexis, D.J. needs you full time. He needs to know he has your support and that he can count on you. Now is not the time for you to move to a different country and throw yourself into running a magazine."

Alexis sighed. "I guess you're right Mom. I just would have liked to offer an alternative to Daniel giving up his plans to go back to school."

"Don't worry about Daniel, Alexis. I think this is probably the best thing for him right now."

"What are you talking about Mom? He wanted to step back from Meade for a while, remember?"

"Yes, but he also wants an excuse to be in London. He still has some pretty strong feelings for Betty and I think if they're living in the same city it will be just the thing he needs to push him into telling her how he feels."

"Did you orchestrate all of this?" Alexis asked shocked.

"Don't be ridiculous Alexis. How and why would I orchestrate fraudulent employees to rip off my own company?"

"No, I guess that wouldn't make sense."

"I only suggested that either he went to London, or we needed to shut down the magazine. And nobody wants to do that at this point, least of all your brother. The magazine needs him in London and frankly so does Betty."

"What do you mean Betty needs him? I thought things were going great for Betty."

"Okay, so maybe she doesn't exactly _need _him. But he needs her. That whole Betty clone fiasco the other week was extremely disturbing."

"And yet somehow, not entirely unexpected."

She ignored her smart remark. "He hasn't had the best luck with his choice of women in the past, but Betty is good for him. And your brother is a good man with some wonderful qualities. I don't see any reason why she wouldn't feel the same way given a little encouragement."

"Other than the almost four years of watching him act like an asshat and sleep with almost anything with two legs, you mean? He has a history that would make Hugh Hefner cringe, Mom. And Betty doesn't only know about it, she was witness to it from front row seats."

"I know, but he's different now and Betty knows _that_ too. She witnessed that change from front row seats as well. I wish you wouldn't be such a parade rainer Alexis." She sighed. "I just want my children to be happy."

"I know Mom," Alexis said softly. "And hey, if it makes you feel any better, Daniel can be pretty persuasive when it comes to women."

"Betty isn't most women." Claire reminded her; uncertain whether in this case that was a good or a bad thing.

* * *

><p>"So, I'm coming to London," Daniel said into the computer later that same afternoon when he was Skyping with Betty. He was trying to appear casual but inside his stomach was in knots.<p>

Betty smiled broadly. "Again? This is becoming a regular occurrence. For how long?"

"Um, actually, indefinitely," Daniel answered cautiously – he wasn't sure what her reaction would be.

Her mouth dropped open and she looked like she was trying to figure out if he was joking or not.

"Shut up!" she finally said enthusiastically. "You're serious?"

Daniel smiled, relieved. At least she seemed happy about it.

"Yeah. ModeUK is having some problems and I'm going to take over for a while to see if we can save it or if we need to shut it down." Daniel said obviously worried.

"So you're coming to rescue ModeUK?"

"I'm not sure I'd use the word 'rescue'. I'm just coming to step in because they don't have and Editor-in-Chief right now and the next issue ships soon. Unfortunately I'll have to postpone going back to school for a while. So much for trying to achieve something on my own, huh?" Daniel was disheartened.

She tilted her head sympathetically and smiled encouragingly.

"Daniel, you're family's company is in trouble – well, part of it anyway – and you're stepping up because you have to. I think that's honorable."

"Yeah?" His spirits were lifting a little.

"Absolutely. And if you do step in and rescue a flailing publication, that's a pretty impressive accomplishment in this market, and definitely something to be proud of. Besides, you can still do your graduate courses – maybe here in London. After you get ModeUK settled then you can figure out what you're going to do for yourself. I think what you're doing is admirable. And do you know what else?"

"What?"

"If anyone can keep Mode afloat, you can."

He smiled. "Thanks Betty. Well, I'll get to be in the same city as you so that's a good thing, right?" He was definitely feeling better.

"That's a great thing." She beamed. "I can't wait."

It all happened like a whirlwind after that. Within days of the conversation with his Mom and Alexis, his stuff was packed, the important paperwork completed, and he was on a flight to London.

* * *

><p>Betty set down the two heavy bags of groceries she was carrying in her right hand and unlocked the door to her flat. She pocketed her keys once the door was open and entered carrying all four grocery bags awkwardly. After kicking the door shut with her foot, she wandered into the kitchen and placed the bags on the floor.<p>

She shook her head as she looked at them. What was she thinking? How many groceries does one person need? It hadn't helped that she'd worked late and gone directly to the store on her way home. She should never, ever shop without having supper first. Plus, the entire time she was in the store she kept seeing things on the shelves she thought might be helpful to have, particularly with Daniel landing tomorrow. Maybe he'd come over for supper one night this week. Not that he'd ever been over for supper in her apartment in New York. But this wasn't New York, this was London and maybe things were going to be a little different.

She berated herself for feeling somewhat hopeful about that as she started putting the groceries away. Why _was_ she feeling hopeful about that? Ironically, it was that hopefulness that filled her with anxiety. She thought she'd gotten rid of those kinds of thoughts about Daniel. She was supposed to be with Vincent…or something. Actually she didn't really know what was going on with Vincent because they hadn't really defined it or even talked about it. He'd been in London for a little over three weeks working on different projects for Lindsey. A few of which Betty could have sworn he only took so he could extend his stay longer. How much longer he was going to stay was anybody's guess.

They hung out as often as they could, which was fairly often because he was at Dunne Publications most of the time. There were lunches and coffee breaks, and dinner of course. But they weren't serious and a big part of her thought that the only reason they were exclusive was that he didn't know very many other people here and neither did she, really. So they hung out with each other and enjoyed being together. And she did enjoy being with him. He was sweet and funny and familiar in a way that reminded her of home.

She immediately started to feel guilty for thinking of inviting Daniel over to her apartment for dinner. That was wrong wasn't it? Or was it? Daniel was just a friend. There was no harm in inviting a good friend over for dinner.

She sighed. Who was she kidding? She thought her feelings for Daniel were going back to normal but as soon as Daniel had told her he was coming to London she'd practically hopped and clapped from the excitement. She'd told herself, as she always did, that it was only because she missed having him around _as a friend_. But there was no getting around it; she was far more excited about his arrival tomorrow than a friend ought to be.

Gathering up the reusable grocery bags, she deposited them in their spot in the cupboard and was about to head into the bedroom to change when her phone rang.

She dug it out of her purse. "Hello?"

"Hey Betty, it's me." She recognized Daniel's voice instantly.

"Daniel! Where are you?" Her heart practically skipped a beat and she berated herself again.

"Actually, I'm at my hotel. I just got in about forty minutes ago."

"I thought you were flying in tomorrow."

"I was supposed to but Mode needs me here right away so I went to the airport early to see if I could get on stand-by."

"What no Meade jet this time?" she joked.

"It was just me, on a one-way fare. I'm not frivolous Betty."

"Says the man who refuses to fly coach."

"Yeah, well I almost had to, but thankfully a space in first class opened up."

"Oh, thank goodness for that. I can't imagine what would happen if you couldn't have your little travel amenity kit," she teased.

"Hey, those tiny socks they come with are cozy; they're like little hugs for your feet."

She couldn't help smiling. "So are you going into Mode tomorrow?"

"Tonight, actually. I'm on my way there after I hang up."

"You're joking?"

"No, I arranged to meet with the head of HR so I can get all of my key cards and passes. I really need to get up to speed quick. The magazine has an issue going to print in two and a half weeks and we're behind because of the whole editor debacle. I don't have any time to waste. Plus I need to hire a new accountant so I have to get on that immediately. We need to straighten out the books."

"Wow. So…uh…do you think you might have time for dinner this week?" She wasn't very hopeful about it with the sound of his schedule.

"With you? I'll make time." He replied warmly making Betty's stomach suddenly feel funny. "It might be best to find some place around my office though. I'll be working late most nights."

"Sure, of course. We'll find a restaurant there. Dunne isn't too far from there anyway so it works for both of us. Oh …Vincent said he'd like to join us too because he never properly thanked you for the boost the features spread in Mode gave his career."

"Oh." He didn't say anything else and there was an awkward silence.

"Daniel, are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"So dinner with Vincent is okay?"

"Uh…sure."

"Great. So I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can do it then."

"Great." He sounded distant and funny all of a sudden but then she supposed he did have jet lag and, very obviously, a lot of stuff on his mind about ModeUK.

After they hung up, she reflected on how much his attitude had changed since she'd first met him. He'd sure come a long way from the days of wandering into Mode at almost lunch time after she'd been covering for him all morning, his eyes bloodshot from a late night of drinking and…whatever.

In some ways it was hard to believe he was the same guy. Of course she'd known for a long time that he had a big heart and was loyal to the people he cared about and that was still the same, but in so many other ways he'd changed. He was no longer the aimless, self-obsessed womanizer he used to be. Now he was hardworking, sweet, and generous. His very reason for being here and the fact that he'd given up his own plans to do it was proof enough of that.

She sighed again. It was no wonder she had a crush on him. The real wonder was whether or not she'd ever be able to get rid of it.


	10. Dinner with Schmucks

Betty was sorting through some advertising contracts the next day when Rachel knocked on the office door and then stuck her head in.

"Hey Betty, I have that article finished. Did you want a hard copy or the file?"

"The file is fine, just email it, thanks Rachel." Betty exhaled loudly feeling very stressed.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked noticing Betty's tension.

"I'm fine. It's just that I've only been here two hours and the work is piling up already. I didn't want to have to work late tonight because I'm supposed to be going to dinner with Vincent and Daniel but it looks like I might have to." She stuck her fingers under the rim of her glasses and rubbed her eyes, tired from all the redlining she'd been doing.

"Is there something I can do to help? Now that my article is done I have some time," she offered as she wandered further into the office.

As always, she was dressed stylish yet very professional in her form fitting black pants, grey jacket and a low cut emerald blouse that added just the perfect amount of colour and brought out her green eyes. Actually, Rachel was the only person she'd ever seen with eyes anywhere near as striking as Daniel's.

Betty smiled with relief. "Oh, thank you Rachel. I could really use the help. I need some fact checking done on these articles, if you don't mind," she handed her two files.

"No problem." Rachel smiled warmly hesitating for a second. "So…uh Daniel? The good-looking bloke I met at your launch party? Is he in town again?"

"Yeah. He's going to be staying for a while." Betty grinned broadly still very excited about it.

"Staying for a while?" Rachel's curiosity was piqued.

"Uh, yeah. He's got, um…work he has to do." For some reason Betty did not want Rachel to pick up on the connection between Daniel, Meade publications, and ModeUK.

"Hmm...and you and your photographer boyfriend are going to dinner with him tonight?"

"Yeah, why?" Betty wasn't sure Vincent was really her boyfriend but didn't feel like getting into semantics right now.

"Well, I just thought maybe he'd want a little of his own companionship at the dinner." She looked incredibly hopeful and Betty realized she was fishing for an invitation.

"Oh, I don't know Rachel. He just got into town yesterday and it's not like you know each other…"

"That's the whole point – to get to know each other. Surely he doesn't want to be a third wheel on your date with Vincent."

"It's not a date with Vincent. It's a dinner with Daniel," Betty corrected her.

"Oh." Rachel stopped short and looked like she was trying to process it. "So Vincent's the third wheel."

"No, of course not." Betty said defensively. "Nobody is a third wheel. It's just friends hanging out."

"Well if it's just friends hanging out then what's wrong with adding another friend?" she smiled conspiratorially.

"So you're not trying to pick him up?"

"Of course I'm trying to pick him up." Rachel looked at her like it was the most ridiculous question she could have asked. "He's single, I'm single, and it's probably no surprise to you that he is extremely attractive." Rachel sat down in the chair opposite Betty's desk and crossed her long legs.

The fact that Rachel was so bold was making Betty a little uncomfortable so she shifted in her seat. She wondered if issuing an invitation to dinner, now that she knew her intentions, was like setting them up.

"You have noticed he's attractive, haven't you?" Rachel added looking intently at her, when Betty didn't respond to her comment.

"Of course I've noticed." Betty shifted her attention back to the papers and shuffled them mindlessly trying to look casual. The way Rachel seemed to be examining her reactions was making her feel self-conscious.

"So is there some history there or something then?" Rachel asked.

"History?" She looked back up at Rachel.

"Yes. You seem uneasy or uncomfortable about inviting me for some reason. I thought maybe the two of you…" Rachel gestured with a bizarre hand motion.

Betty's eyes went wide partly at the suggestion and partly from the image inspired by the bizarre gesture. "Okay, I'm not even sure what that means." Betty admitted uncomfortably.

"It means—"

"I mean, I know what it means. I just didn't understand the exact signage." Betty interrupted quickly before Rachel could explain it. "There's no history with Daniel and I'm not uneasy about it. I just don't do set ups. He's my friend, you work with me - if it doesn't work out it would be awkward, that's all."

"Why? It's not like I work with _him_. Come on Betty, please. If there's no history then don't hide him away from the rest of us. Those eyes, his smile, that physique, he is absolutely yummy. I'm getting hot just thinking about it." She fanned herself.

And there was the guilt she'd been repressing this entire conversation. As ridiculous an accusation as it was, she _was_ trying to hide him away. There was no reason why she shouldn't invite Rachel to dinner. Betty was dating Vincent after all, even if she couldn't exactly define him as a "boyfriend". It was just that the thought of Daniel with Rachel – with anyone if she was honest - was extremely bothersome. And, unfortunately, she couldn't think of a good excuse at the moment.

"Fine. You can join us." She plastered on one of her fake smiles again.

She might as well get used to it. It's not like she'd be able to hide Daniel away from the entire female population of London anyway. It's just she hadn't really expected to be a co-conspirator in setting him up with Rachel. She wondered, pathetically - with her throat tightening up and her stomach feeling like there was a rock in it - if their gorgeous blonde children with the freakish blue-green eyes would call her Aunt Betty.

She berated herself yet again: _genetics doesn't work that way Suarez_.

* * *

><p>A little while later, after signing off on several articles and double checking some facts on her own article, Betty decided she'd better firm up the dinner plans.<p>

"ModeUK. Daniel Meade's office. How may I help you?" a male voice answered.

"Hi. I'm Betty Suarez. I'm a friend of Daniel's from New York. Well…not that I'm in New York now. I live in London now, as you could probably tell because it's super early in the morning in New York so I wouldn't be calling Daniel right now if I lived there." She rolled her eyes at herself, realizing she'd started to ramble. "And you are?"

There was a slight pause before he responded questioningly as if he wasn't sure if this was some kind of bizarre test. "Daniel Meade's assistant?"

"Right. Of course. But your name?" Betty fished.

"Mickey," he responded.

"Mickey, like the mouse?" Betty asked to make sure she'd heard correctly.

"That's very clever. I don't think I've _ever_ heard that one before," he said with dripping sarcasm.

"So Mickey, have you worked at Mode long?" Betty asked brushing past his comment.

There was another pause before a hesitant answer. "About two years."

"And were you an assistant the whole time?" She asked trying to elicit more than just one sentence responses from him.

"Is this an interview because I already have a job?"

"No. I was just trying to get to know you." Betty explained. "I'm a good friend of Daniel's so I'm sure we'll probably be talking to each other quite a bit."

"Mmm hmm? And will that entail more than just polite civility, I wonder?"

"Uh…" She wasn't really sure what he was asking so she ignored it. "You know I used to be Daniel's assistant back in New York?

"Is that so?" There really wasn't much interest in his intonation.

"Yes, well before I got the position as Junior Features Editor. So you see we have a lot in common."

"Really? Are you a gay British man as well?" He asked.

"Well, no…obviously."

"Obviously," he replied smugly.

"But I meant work-wise we have a lot in common."

"Really? And what is it you do 'work-wise'?"

"I'm the managing editor of Londonesque." She couldn't help smiling as she said it; it always filled her with pride.

"Oh, so you run the new magazine Dunne Publications has launched," he sounded impressed. Betty smiled with relief. Maybe they would hit it off after all. She was hopeful, until he continued very sarcastically "You're right, we _do _have a lot in common. You run your own magazine, I get coffee for someone who runs his own magazine. It's like we're the same person."

"Well, I used to get coffee for Daniel and now look where I am," she offered hopefully.

"Are you always this peppy?"

"Uh…" She was a little taken aback.

"Can I put through to Mr. Meade now? Please?" he begged, as if he wanted her to end his torture.

"Sure."

Betty launched right in as soon as Daniel answered his phone.

"Your new assistant is…" She was about to say rude but stopped herself so she could choose her words carefully. Daniel _had_ fired Gio when she'd complained too much about him one day. She didn't want that on her conscience again. "Um…spunky."

"Yeah, he's great, huh? He says whatever pops into his head. He's like Marc but with sass."

"Marc didn't have sass?" Betty questioned.

"Well, you know…more sass," Daniel added.

"I'm not sure that's necessarily a good thing," she mumbled.

"What?" Daniel hadn't heard her which was good because she didn't really intend him to.

"Nothing. Is your morning going okay?"

"Great, fantastic, awesome. I've already sorted through thirty resumes, redlined three articles and hired a photographer for our cover shoot." He spoke really fast and with a slightly higher pitch than normal. It was somewhere between stressed and strung out.

"Are you alright?" Betty asked with a little concern.

"I'm great, I just said that. Why?"

"You sound funny."

"Oh. Well I've had some caffeine, maybe that's it."

"How much caffeine?"

"Uh, let me think…four regular coffees, a cappuccino, and this super turbo charged energy drink, Adreneline Blast or something like that."

"Are you kidding me? It's not even noon. Okay, no more caffeine for you today. Did you know those energy drinks can cause heart palpitations? And with your family history of heart problems…just don't drink anymore of that stuff."

"So that's what those weird sensations were. I thought it was just the stress."

"Daniel! You cannot just avoid weird chest sensations." Immediately that image of Bradford Meade lying at the front of the church popped into her head and she started to panic.

"Relax Betty, I'm just teasing you. There were no weird sensations. No more energy drinks, I promise. I can't promise about the coffee though. I'm exhausted and I don't have time for jet lag."

She decided to get to the point of the phone call. "So are you still up for dinner tonight?"

"With both you and Vincent?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Uh..." He was hesitating and she realized he was trying to think up an excuse.

"What's wrong?" she asked bluntly.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you hesitating?"

"I'm not."

"Daniel…"

"Okay. It's just that it's going to be a long day and I'm already wiped. I have so much to do and I don't even have time for the jet lag that's trying to take hold."

"I get it, but you do have to eat somewhere, right? There's a nice restaurant right around the corner from your office," she said hopefully. "Come on, please?"

He sighed. "Alright, but make it later in the evening and I won't be able to stay and hang around talking because I'll have to come in here early," he added apologetically.

"Great!" Her spirits were lifted and she grinned broadly. "Oh, and one more thing I almost forgot," she figured he should have a heads up about it. "Rachel is coming too."

"Rachel?"

"You know, the editor I introduced you to at the launch party." Maybe it was a good sign that he couldn't remember her.

"Oh."

"That's okay, right? Because I kind of already told her she could."

"Yeah, that's fine."

* * *

><p>When they'd finished their conversation and hung up the phone Daniel heaved a huge sigh, pushed his chair back from the desk and looked up at the ceiling. Great, he was going out on some kind of perverse double date with Betty and Vincent. Was Betty really on such a different page than him that she'd actually be trying to set him up?<p>

* * *

><p>Daniel pulled open the heavy wooden door of the restaurant and walked in. The entrance was small but the restaurant seemed to open up into a large dining room directly behind the hostess station, with a large bar on the left and tables to the right. The young hostess smiled at Daniel as soon as she sent the couple ahead of him off to their table.<p>

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm meeting some friends…" he glanced into the dining room and noticed Betty waving enthusiastically from a table about halfway into the room. "And actually, there they are." He pointed to the table.

The hostess nodded understanding and he went to meet them. Betty and Vincent were sitting facing the door which is why she'd seen him right away.

"Hey everyone," Daniel said as he approached the table.

Vincent stood up politely and shook his hand. "Nice to see you Daniel, it's been a while."

"Yeah, I guess. What's it been, four years?"

"Something like that. Time sure flies."

"Daniel, you remember Rachel?" Betty gestured to Rachel who was sitting across the table from Betty.

"Sure. Hi Rachel," he smiled at her.

Her smile was broad. "Hello Daniel. It certainly is nice to see you again."

Daniel took the empty seat beside Rachel at the table, directly across from Vincent.

"So Betty tells me you're doing some work for Dunne," he said as he picked up the menu.

"Yeah, it started as a photo shoot for the anniversary issue of Zen but Lindsey kept finding other projects for me to work on, which was fine by me because it meant I could stay in London a little longer." He looked over to Betty and she smiled.

Daniel nodded but his gut twisted.

"Why have you come back to London, Daniel?" Rachel asked him changing the topic.

"Oh, I'm doing some work at Mode," Daniel answered somewhat evasively.

"I hear ModeUK is having some trouble." Vincent said casually, causing Daniel to glance quickly at Betty.

Betty shrugged and shook her head to indicate she hadn't told him. Troubled magazines tended to make advertisers and contract employees like photographers nervous and the wrong kind of rumour could be like a death sentence. But Daniel knew Betty was aware of that from working as his assistant and she would never have betrayed his confidence.

"Oh, Betty didn't tell me. It's just something I heard in my circles," Vincent said noticing the interaction between the two.

"Well, I assure you, the information in your circles is wrong." Daniel was sharp and turned his attention to the menu.

"I don't think Vincent meant any offense, Daniel," Betty said cautiously.

"Of course not, I was just speaking off the top of my head. It tends to get me into trouble sometimes."

Daniel relaxed a little. "Sure." He cleared his throat. So…uh, what looks good?" He focused on the menu and tried changing the subject.

"On the menu?" Rachel asked with a suggestive smirk which Daniel instinctively reacted to with a smile. He had to hand it to her she was smooth.

"I think the salmon looks good," Betty responded with a cool tone as she grabbed her water and took a sip.

"Well, I'm always up for a good steak so that's what I'm getting," Vincent put his menu down and casually put his arm around the back of Betty's chair.

"So, that was quite a coincidence, you two running into each other in Lindsey's office the other week, huh?" Daniel said to keep the conversation flowing and to try and ignore the burning sensation in his stomach.

"Yeah. It was fantastic to see Betty. I almost didn't recognize her." Vincent looked over and smiled at her as his hand that was on the back of her chair slid down to rest on her shoulder. She blushed a little and looked down bashfully.

Just then the waiter arrived. "Can I get anyone a drink before you start?"

Daniel responded promptly, his voice a little higher pitched than he would have liked. "Yeah, I'll have a scotch. Uh…as soon as you can get it here, please." Betty gave him a look of concern that he ignored.

He hoped a little alcohol might help him survive this evening, but he needed to be smart. The last thing he needed was to drink too much and do or say something he'd regret.

* * *

><p>The dinner did not go exactly as Betty had expected or hoped. Not that she'd really known what to hope for once Rachel has weaseled an invitation. Okay, so "weaseled" was a little inaccurate. She had to admit that Rachel had been completely forthright about her intentions so she couldn't fault her there.<p>

She suspected Rachel would spend the evening fawning over Daniel and she was not wrong in that assumption. She hadn't anticipated that Daniel would be as sullen and moody as he was though. Although he had warned her he wasn't in the best frame of mind - that things at Mode were stressful - in her naivety she thought maybe he just needed a break; that a night out with friends would help him.

It hadn't, it seemed. His mood remained somber the entire dinner. She'd worried about him a little when he ordered his first scotch of the evening with that high pitched voice he used when his anxiety level was up. Thankfully he had kept it to two.

Betty, who had started the evening excited, was growing increasingly glum and sour. Between Daniel's attitude which she was desperately trying to be understanding about, and Rachel's flirting which was bugging her more than it had the night of her launch party, she was just about ready for dinner to be over. The kicker happened just as the meal was winding down and they were talking casually about the weather of all things.

"This heat we're having is awful," Rachel commented. "Almost makes me wish I didn't have to wear anything at all." She looked meaningfully at Daniel.

Betty gaped at her brazenness and commented coolly, "I would think, if you were wearing next to nothing, that your pa—" She almost said pasty but stopped herself in time. "Uh…fair skin would burn and blister in the summer sun." _Not unlike Dracula's,_ she refrained from adding.

"Oh, I never said anything about being outside." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Betty didn't have a quick come back for that one instead she decided to veer in a safer direction. "Apparently New York is in a bit of a heat wave too. Hilda said she couldn't ever remember it being so hot." She commented before she took a sip of her coffee.

"It was pretty hot last summer at the end of July. We broke records. I can't imagine it getting much warmer than that," Daniel replied.

"I remember that. I was doing a shoot outdoors and had to postpone it for a few days because I was worried about the humidity damaging my equipment," Vincent added.

"I don't know. I just know what Hilda said." Betty shrugged.

"Well, I'm going back in a couple of days so I'll let you know," Vincent said casually.

Betty's head snapped up and she looked at him with a start. "You are?"

"Yeah. My work at Dunne is finished and I need to get back to my studio."

"Oh." She looked down at her plate and tried not to look as surprised and disappointed as she felt. Oddly, the disappointment was more about how she'd found out than the fact he was leaving.

"Uh…so…what are your plans for when you get back?" Daniel jumped in. He gave Betty a soft smile of empathy across the table which almost made her feel worse. Obviously her shock and disappointment was apparent to Daniel even if the other two didn't notice.

"Well, first I have to do some shots for a V.I.P. client that has requested me specifically. And then, although it's not official yet, Lindsey says has a project for me and I have to meet with my rep and get to work on an outline and proposal for it."

Betty wondered if it was that book he had mentioned to her before but she didn't feel like being inquisitive about it right now.

The others rambled on for the rest of the dinner. Betty had mostly tuned them out, only occasionally throwing a feigned smile or chuckle out so as not to be to obviously unsocial.

They hailed cabs in front of the restaurant. Vincent and Betty climbed in one and it looked like Rachel and Daniel were going to share the other.

Betty was quiet in the cab much like she'd been for the remainder of dinner but apparently now, without the others, it was obvious to Vincent.

"I get the impression something is wrong," Vincent finally said when they were part way back to Betty's flat.

"What? Why would you say that?" She tried to remain nonchalant about it.

"Come on Betty, you got quieter and quieter as the evening went on and now you're not even speaking."

"I'm speaking. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is it Rachel?"

"Why would it be Rachel?"

"You were sending some chilly vibes her way."

"I was not." She hadn't realized it was quite so obvious.

"Okay, well maybe it was Daniel, then?"

"Daniel?"

"He wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality tonight. You invited him out for a nice dinner and he was kind of uncivilized most of the evening."

"He's stressed and tired and has jet lag."

"You don't need to defend him Betty. He was kind of rude. It's okay if you're pissed with him."

"I'm not," she insisted, little by little getting angrier at Vincent. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper so the cab driver couldn't hear and desperately tried not to sound too upset. "If I'm upset about anything tonight, it's that I found out, the way I did, that you're going back to New York in a couple of days and you're just telling me now."

"To be fair, I just found out today that I needed to go back to do some work for this client. And you knew I wasn't staying. I don't live in London, Betty. I live in New York." He sounded puzzled about the last part.

"I know that," she sighed with frustration. "But it might have been nice if you'd told me when you were leaving in private rather than just dropping it in casual conversation." It was getting harder to remain calm and Betty thought walking might help her. "Um…do you want to walk the rest of the way to my flat?"

"Sure." He told the driver to pull over and then paid him.

They got out and started walking in the direction of Betty's flat. He took her hand and she looked up, a little startled.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I suppose I should have given you a heads up in private. But to be honest, I wasn't sure you'd be all that disappointed anyway."

"What are talking about? Of course I'm disappointed."

He nodded slowly and gave her hand a squeeze so she softened a little. The exercise and fresh air were helping.

She looked down at the sidewalk and said softly, "I'm going to miss you."

He smiled. "I'll miss you too Betty. You are one of a kind." He stopped walking and tugged on her hand so she stopped too and turned to face him. "This has been fun, but I'm pretty sure we both know that it's not really long distance material."

She nodded.

He gave her a wistful smile. "I wish we would have had more time together and fewer obstacles."

"Obstacles?"

"Yeah, your work, my work, and whatever it is that's stopping you from letting someone get close."

"I don't stop people from—"

"You do, Betty. Or at least you have with me." He held her gaze. "Maybe you were holding back because you knew I had to go eventually," he suggested.

"Maybe." Betty was still confused. She hadn't intentionally been pulling away but maybe she was afraid of it becoming another situation like Henry's, minus the baby of course.

"My ego likes to think that's what it was anyway," he grinned and she smiled back.

* * *

><p>Daniel spent the next week completely swamped at work. He would wake up, go into the office for about fourteen to sixteen hours, grab something to eat on the way home and crash in bed almost the moment he'd finished dinner. He still hadn't even had time to assess whether or not all of this was futile and if the damage done to the magazine was irreversible. But, really, he needed the new accountant in place to help clean up the books before that was possible anyway.<p>

He almost laughed at the thought that ran through his head. Henry Grubstick would have been the perfect candidate for this role with his experience at Mode and his expertise with budgets, but it would be a cold day in hell before he deliberately brought Henry anywhere near London. Thankfully, he managed to complete the task of hiring an accountant (who was not Henry) before the week was up.

He took one evening out of the office in the middle of the week to go to an advertising networking conference with Rachel. He thought it would probably be beneficial to the magazine since he had limited advertising connections in London.

It was an incredibly successful evening, professionally. His only regret had been that he'd picked Rachel up instead of meeting her there. It seemed that even that small gesture had her interpreting the evening much more like a date than just the business venture he'd considered it.

In hindsight, it might not have been the smartest idea to go up to her apartment when she'd invited him in, but in his defense, he had desperately had to go to the bathroom and he was a little thirsty too. He'd been enjoying her company and – if he was completely honest – the flirting too. And although he wasn't particularly interested, it had been months since he'd been on a date much less had a beautiful woman throwing herself at him. And let's face it, he was only human.

He had been very well behaved though - avoiding her advances, moving away when she entered his personal space…mostly.

But during one particularly weak moment - right after Rachel had literally pushed him backward onto the sofa and straddled his lap - he could have sworn Becks was standing right beside him on his right cheering him on.

"_Come on, man - look at her. What's stopping you? It's not like you're being unfaithful. You're not even _with_ Betty; she's with Vincent, remember?"_

_For one nanosecond he allowed himself to imagine what it might be like, especially when Rachel's hands began roaming and she started speaking rather candidly about what she wanted to do to him, but then he heard another voice from the left side and saw Betty standing there with her arms crossed and the disappointment on her face._

"_Seriously Daniel, how do you expect me to believe that you have feelings for me when you're carrying on like this?_

_He sat up immediately and stopped Rachel's aggressive advances. "Uh, look Rachel, I'm really sorry but I can't do this."_

"_Are you joking?" she looked stunned and extremely frustrated._

"_No. I…uh...I just really can't." He stood up and grabbed his suit jacket off of the chair. _

He'd practically run out the door. He was grateful now, for the clarity in that moment. He would have regretted that decision for sure. The last thing he wanted was another stain on his relationship with Betty; there were enough of those already if Betty chose to remember them.

He still intended to tell Betty his feelings, as soon as he could. Unfortunately, the long hours at work had made getting together with her almost impossible. Thankfully Vincent's leaving took some pressure off. At least Vincent and Betty weren't growing closer while he was busy saving Mode.

He realized just how busy he'd been one afternoon about a week and a half after their dinner, when he got a call from her at work.

"Hey, it's me," she chirped warmly into the phone.

"Hi Betty."

"You know, I saw more of you when you lived in New York and we Skyped all of the time."

"Yeah. Ironic, huh? The magazine is crazy. It's in a worse mess than I thought."

"I just wanted to let you know I'm off to New York for a week for work, believe it or not." She sounded excited.

"Really? When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow. You know we haven't even spoken for three days?"

"I know. Sorry about that. I've been working really late every night."

"Well, I'm sure it will pay off."

"I don't even know if we can save the magazine. I haven't had time to look at the budget yet."

"Oh Daniel, I wish I could help."

"I wish you could too. But hey, I don't mean to complain. It's just hard work, I'll survive." He changed the topic and his tone. "So, New York?"

"I'm so excited to be going home. I didn't honestly think I'd get to go until at least Christmas, but this story came up and we need to get it right away."

"That's great. Say 'hi' to your family for me."

"I will."

"Oh and Betty?"

"Yeah?"

"We really need to get together for dinner or something when you get back, just the two of us, okay?"

"Definitely," she agreed.

* * *

><p>Later that same afternoon, Betty stood up from her desk to go into the break room and get herself a coffee.<p>

She grabbed the mug Amanda had given her as a going away present off the edge of her desk. Cringing a little at the picture of Marc on it. He was sleeping with his gel sleep mask over his eyes, his mouth hanging open and drooling on his pillow. On the other side it said "Sleeping Marc, almost as lovely as my sleeping Betty". She'd kept it mainly because she had trouble throwing gifts away, especially "thoughtful" gifts, and somehow Amanda had considered this thoughtful even though to Betty it was mostly just disturbing.

Rachel was in there grabbing her own coffee. She looked questioningly at Betty's mug but didn't say anything.

"It's was a gift from a friend back home," Betty explained lifting up her mug self-consciously.

Rachel just nodded.

"Oh, speaking of home, how are the plans for New York?"

"Great. I'm just wrapping up the last few details before I take off tomorrow."

"That's good." Rachel grabbed a mug, poured herself a coffee and started doctoring it.

"How was the advertising thing the other evening?" Betty asked as she put the sugar in her own coffee.

"Good…great." Rachel had the fakest smile ever and Betty turned her head slightly and looked at her like she wasn't buying it. "Okay, not really very good at all."

"Oh?" Betty was suddenly really concerned about what could have happened and hoped that it didn't affect Londonesque's reputation in the industry.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this Betty. I mean I don't want to upset you or anything…"

"What is it?" Betty's anxiety was growing by the second.

"It just that…well, your friend Daniel…I'm just not sure it's working out."

"Daniel?" She was confused now.

"Yeah. He picked me up and we went together."

"So, the fact that it wasn't a good evening has to do with Daniel?" The relief was setting in, about work anyway.

"Yeah. The conference was fine – just normal stuff, you know?" She shrugged. "It was the end of the evening with Daniel that didn't go very well."

Betty nodded to convey she was listening.

"Don't get me wrong, he's a nice bloke and definitely not too hard to look at. It's just…" she paused. "I'm just not sure we're compatible…" she looked around to see if anyone could hear even though there was nobody else in the room, and then she whispered "sexually, if you know what I mean."

Betty felt incredibly uncomfortable. She was pretty sure she didn't want to know how Rachel and Daniel were not compatible sexually.

"Oh. Okay then." She turned back to fixing her own coffee.

There was a brief moment of silence before Rachel spoke again.

"Listen…" Rachel started, and Betty tensed, hoping with all her being that Rachel wasn't going to try and confide in her. She really didn't want any details. "He doesn't cast his line up stream or anything, does he?" she asked cautiously.

"What?" She turned back around to face her. She had no idea what Rachel was talking about.

"You know, is he playing for the other team?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"What?" It was more an exclamation that time because that expression made no sense in the context of Daniel Meade.

"Cor blimey, Betty...gay! He's not gay is he?" she asked with exasperation.

"Daniel?"

"Yes, Daniel."

"Noooo." She shook her head slowly, extremely confused where these questions were coming from.

"Oh." She looked like she was thinking about that for a second. "He's the toughest nut to crack then. I've never had this much trouble with a straight bloke before."

Betty was confused but she didn't have time to ask for clarification before Rachel continued. "The old fashioned, gentlemanly shtick was endearing at first but it's starting to wear a little thin."

Betty just stared at her a little dumbfounded.

"Listen Betty, I fancy him, I do. But I'm not looking for a big commitment or anything, just a little fun and hopefully a shag, but there is only so long a girl can hold out waiting, if you know what I mean. I hope you don't think badly of me."

"But you've only known him about a week," Betty said a little stunned. "How many dates have you been on?"

"Two, counting the dinner with you and Vincent."

"That wasn't really a date," Betty reminded her.

"Not exactly, but we had dinner, shared a cab and he took me home. That's more like a date than lots of guys I've slept with." Betty looked at her wide eyed. "Look, the other night I thought it was my opportunity. I invited him in for 'a drink' and he came up to my flat. I had him on the couch and he seemed like he might be into it and then just like that he went bonkers and said he had to leave. He said he 'really couldn't', whatever that means."

"Maybe he just wants to get to know you a little first," Betty suggested. It was improbable given it was Daniel but she supposed he'd changed enough that it might be true.

"Yeah maybe." She sounded skeptical. "He kind of acted like sleeping with me was the last thing on earth he'd ever want to do."

Betty started to feel badly for her until she added "If I wasn't so sure that couldn't possibly be the case, I'd almost start to doubt myself. I'm thinking that it's more likely he has a 'mechanical problem', or maybe he's just not that into sex. Either way, I'm not that interested in helping him 'fix his issues'. I hope you understand."

Betty nodded slowly, still considerably confused by all of it.


	11. Mission Almost Impossible

The next several days flew by. Daniel was still working incredibly long hours which made one day blend into another. And he was desperately missing Betty. It's not like he'd seen much of her or even spoken to her often in the two weeks he'd been in London but somehow knowing she wasn't here made the city seem bleak. Making it worse was the idea that she was back in New York, with Vincent. Not that he knew if she was actually still _with_ Vincent or not because they hadn't really had a chance to talk.

Feeling slightly sluggish, he finished work about an hour earlier than he usually did. He felt the need for some exercise so he went back to the hotel, changed and went down to the gym for a long workout.

After a short shower back up in his room, he checked his cell to see if he'd missed any calls. Betty had called three times. Although that wasn't necessarily uncharacteristic, the frequency of calls was a little bizarre. He dialed her cell and it went to voice-mail so he called her dad instead.

"I had a message from Betty," he explained to Ignacio after some polite pleasantries. "Is she there? Is everything alright?"

"As far as I know everything is fine. I'll bet she just wanted to tell you the exciting news herself. She's gone out for a walk, right now though. She said she needed some time alone so she could consider Vincent's proposal."

"Oh." Daniel quickly processed the time change and decided not to worry about Betty wandering the streets of Queens because it was still early there, then the rest of the sentence sank in. "Wait…proposal?"

"Oh, shoot." Ignacio paused. "I shouldn't say anything else. Betty will want to tell you all about it and she'll be disappointed if she knew I spilled the beans. Maybe if you call her cell phone she'll pick up."

After he hung up, Daniel sank down slowly onto his sofa, the phone dropping out of his hand and landing on the rug. He stomach clench with anxiety and nausea. Too late, he was too late. He'd lost her. All of the missed opportunities to tell her how he felt were swirling in his head. This proposal was out of nowhere. It didn't even seem like they were that serious; they weren't even living on the same continent for God's sake. Of course separation from her hadn't stopped Henry from popping back into her life and proposing. And that potato lover - what's-his-name - stalked her for a while after they'd broken up. Maybe it was like that with Betty. Maybe once you loved her you couldn't get her out of your system and you were destined for a life of haunting what-ifs.

Daniel threw his head back and emitted a noise of despair somewhere between a groan and a whimper. Was that now to be his fate? Would he spend the rest of his life wondering what might have happened if he had only acted sooner?

But maybe it wasn't too late yet. Ignacio said she needed time alone so she could consider Vincent's proposal. That means she hadn't said yes. And even if she did it's not like they would elope. She'd plan a big romantic wedding, he was sure. One that he'd be invited to…oh God, the thought of that flooded him with another wave of nausea. He tried to calm himself and get back to the point: she wasn't married yet. In fact, technically she wasn't even engaged if she hadn't accepted.

He scooped his phone up off of the floor and with great determination called her cell. After several rings it went to voice-mail. He called her number every five minutes for the next hour, becoming more and more discouraged with every attempt. Was Betty screening his call, sending him to voice-mail each time? That didn't make any sense, she had called him. Completely torn, he wondered if he should call Ignacio's house again but he didn't want to seem pathetic. On the other hand he needed to stop her from accepting the proposal rashly. He needed a drink, desperately, to calm his anxiety.

A gazillion phone call attempts and several drinks later, found him lying flat on his back on his bed, a steadfast grip on his iPhone in his left hand and the empty scotch glass clenched in his right.

"Betty…" he groaned in frustration. "Answer your damn phone."

He closed his eyes and the room spun a little. The scotch was starting to take affect - he wasn't nearly as anxious as he was six drinks ago. Of course now he was feeling tired.

He fell asleep, fully dressed, on top of the covers with the phone clutched in his hand over his chest although he had abandoned the scotch glass on the bedside table. It was a fitful sleep filled with bizarre dreams.

In one, he was on his knees proposing to Betty when she morphed into Alexis and pushed him over onto his face where she then preceded to berate him for being such a dipwad. In another, Betty told him - as she gazed into his eyes - that she couldn't marry Vincent because she was in love with someone else. As Daniel's heart soared, she leaned in and whispered _"it's that new guy from your accounting department. Isn't he cute?"_ In the following one, he and Vincent were buddies, and Vincent continually extolled the virtues of his lovely new fiancée Betty, particularly what a spitfire she was in bed.

The last one was also the worst one – probably because it was the most realistic. In it he gently held her hand as they sat together on a park bench overlooking the Thames.

"_I'm sorry Daniel. You know I love you and I always will, but not like that." Her eyes filled with tears from the pain she was causing him. _

"_Maybe it's just because you've never tried thinking of us like that. Maybe given a little time—"_

"_I'm so sorry, really I am. But we'd never work. I'm your safety net, that's all."_

"_What's wrong with a safety net when it's someone you love? I need you Betty," he grasped in desperation. And even as it came out of his mouth, he knew it was completely the wrong thing to say._

_She looked at him with understanding. "We've always been there for each other. You're just afraid of letting go of your safety net. It's the same reason you couldn't say good-bye to me in New York. It doesn't mean that you love me, at least not in the way I deserve to be loved. Eventually you'd realize that and look for something else."_

"_I wouldn't Betty, I swear. You're pushing this back on me because you're afraid. You can't tell me you don't feel the same way, can you?"_

"_I can tell you that I won't let myself feel that way. You have to let go of us…of this idea you have of us. I know you don't believe me but one day you'll thank me for this, I promise," she said as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She got up and walked out with such finality that it felt like he'd never speak to her again._

He woke up from that last dream and it felt like a heavy weight was resting on his chest. His mouth was dry and his head throbbing. He looked at the clock; it was six forty-five. Four awful dreams had him wishing he hadn't fallen asleep at all and he dared not fall back to sleep lest he have another one. He dragged himself out of bed. Not even caring what time it was at this point because of the state of his sanity, he dialed Betty's cell but it went to voice-mail again.

He wanted to scream. Enough was enough – he dialed Ignacio.

There were quite a number of rings before Ignacio picked up and when he did, he sounded half asleep.

"Mr. Suarez?"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to disturb you but I've been trying to get Betty on her cell all evening and she's not answering." He tried to keep the desperation out of his tone and he just then calculated the time difference cringing a little that he was calling Ignacio in the middle of the night but it was too late now.

"I suppose maybe she has it shut off. I don't imagine she uses it much on the airplane."

"Airplane?"

"Yes. She decided to head back to London a little early. She got everything she needed for whatever she was working on and caught a plane this evening. Didn't I mention that when we spoke earlier?"

"Uh…no, no I'm pretty sure you never said anything about that."

He got the details of her flight and politely said good-bye, apologizing profusely for forgetting about the time difference. Betty's plane had landed at Heathrow twenty minutes ago. It was too late to catch her at the airport but he could meet her back at her flat. Obviously she would need to clear customs collect her baggage and then take a taxi. He figured that gave him enough time to clean up a bit, which was much needed after last night's alcohol consumption.

As soon as he got ready he called a cab and headed over to her place. He used the address in his phone because he'd never actually been there before even though he'd heard all about it.

After paying the cab driver he walked up the short set of steps to the building entrance and buzzed her apartment. There was no answer so he buzzed again. He buzzed about six times before he gave up realizing she wasn't answering. She must be home by now. The only possible explanation was that she'd gone to bed when she'd gotten in. It was highly possible that she had hardly slept on the plane and now she was exhausted, dead asleep and not waking with the buzzer.

He stood staring at the door for a second, his frustration and desperation mounting. How on earth could he wake her up? Suddenly he had an idea.

He wandered around to the alley at the side of the building to scope it out. She lived in a small, secure walk-up and he knew from conversations with her that her flat was on the third floor. As he looked up to the third row of windows he felt overwhelmed. How would he ever be able to tell which windows were hers? The sun was well up by now so he could clearly see the windows of all the flats. But most had their curtains drawn and even if they didn't, he couldn't tell from his perspective what was inside the apartments so that wouldn't be any help.

There were plants in some of the windows, but he couldn't tell by a plant if it was her apartment. One apartment had some loud, brightly coloured curtains but really, that was still kind of inconclusive. He was on the verge of despair and about to give up when he noticed a few items sitting on the ledge of a window at the back of the building. He walked over to take a closer look. Sure enough it was a stuffed kitten, a stuffed duck, an animal he couldn't identify, and Betty's ragged old graduation bunny lined up in a row as if they were looking out the window. Bingo!

He quickly scanned the fire escape and noticed a route up to the window. Unfortunately, the bottom of the fire escape looked to be twelve to fifteen feet off of the ground. A dumpster was sitting a couple of feet away from it though. If he could get on top of it, with a good jump, he might be able to latch onto the bottom rung and pull himself up. He looked around the alley for something he could use to climb up onto the dumpster. There was an old crate in the corner so he dragged it over and stood on it. Then he pulled himself up onto the dumpster with relative ease. The hard part was going to be the jump across.

He decided to just go for it; thinking about it too much would just make him question the stupidity of it. He took a running leap off of the dumpster, sailed through the air and gracefully latched onto the rung.

Dangling there for a couple of seconds, he started to breathe again. The next part wasn't going to be very easy because there wasn't anything for his feet to use as leverage. Summoning all his upper body strength, he yanked himself into a chin-up, quickly releasing his left hand to grab the next rung. It worked successfully so he did it with the other hand. He was feeling great - like muscles and awesomeness all rolled together - and somewhere the Mission Impossible theme was playing just for him, he was sure. This was exactly the ego boost a guy needed just before he bared his soul to the woman he loved. It was too bad that Betty couldn't actually witness this because he was pretty sure ol' camera boy would not be able to accomplish such a feat.

He pulled up one more time and reached for the next rung. This time he slipped which caused him to flail his feet and rapidly snatch the rung he'd just let go of. Just as his relief was settling in, he heard a loud clank, felt a sudden jerk, and the part of the fire escape he was clinging to – which he now realized was a ladder – started descending rapidly down it's track. There was a horrendous, repetitive clanging noise as each rung skipped over the latch that had come loose. Clinging on for dear life, his heart was pounding in terror as he saw the ground rushing up at him.

Suddenly the ladder jerked to a stop, pitching him forward enough to smash his forehead into the metal rung. Instinctively his hand went up and when he pulled it away there was blood. He let go of the ladder – which was now close to the ground, but couldn't stand up because his legs were shaking too much from the fright. Sitting down on the pavement he assessed the injury. There was a cut and a bruise just above his right eye, not too severe but it certainly hurt.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the faint barking of a dog, joined soon after by another one, obviously disturbed by the loud noise. He got up quickly and hid behind the dumpster. The last thing he wanted was to try and explain what he was doing in the alley way, on the fire escape, at this time in the morning.

After a couple of minutes, when he thought it would be safe and after his heart rate had gone back to normal, he came out from behind the dumpster and climbed the ladder and then the fire escape quietly. He got up to the landing right outside of Betty's flat and knocked on the window.

"Betty," he whispered as loudly as he could. "Betty, it's me, Daniel. Let me in."

There was no answer. Feeling only slightly like a pervert, he tried to peek in the opening between the curtains. He couldn't see a lot but he could see it was the window to her living room and on the other side of the apartment. There was no evidence of a suitcase, shoes or purse anywhere.

He glanced down at the stuffed animals who seemed to be gazing at him with judgment. "Don't look at me like that. I just wanted to see if she was home."

He sank down onto the fire escape, puzzled and disappointed. Where would she have gone if she didn't come home? Did Ignacio accidentally give him the wrong flight number? Or maybe the line at customs was longer than he thought and she was still on her way?

He leaned back against the railing and stretched his legs out in front of him, closing his eyes in defeat. He was ready to tell her; he'd risked life and limb (okay maybe just limb) and now she wasn't even here. It felt like fate was conspiring against them. Maybe he wasn't supposed to tell her he loved her; maybe the universe knew something he didn't.

He was unbelievably tired. What a night it had been and his hangover headache was back, or maybe it was a headache from the near concussion. He wiped away some of the drops of blood that were trickling down his face.

Alone with his thoughts - the desperation he was feeling earlier slowly being replaced by hopelessness - he began to process whether he should interfere at all. Could he make her as happy as Vincent? God, he wanted the chance to try but if Betty was happy, truly happy with Vincent, then telling her how he felt wouldn't serve anyone, would it? If he really loved her then her happiness should be the most important thing.

That was wonderfully magnanimous in theory, much more excruciating in reality. Could he really stand back and let her marry someone else? It would be a horrible existence for a while but surely he'd get over her, maybe even meet someone else someday.

He closed his eyes, too tired and emotionally drained to think about it anymore or even to climb back down the fire escape. He just needed a short breather…five minutes, that's all and then he'd go. He only hoped the pain in his head would obscure the one in his chest enough that he could forget about it, at least for a little while.

* * *

><p>Betty arrived home from the airport, exhausted from a long, turbulent flight. She'd been so on edge and her mind racing from her meeting with Vincent that she hadn't been able to sleep at all. She put her laptop down in the hall, slipped off her shoes and was going to go get some sleep.<p>

First she needed a drink of water though, so she wandered over to the sink and poured herself a glass. Her flat felt a little stuffy after being away for almost a week. It was a beautiful August morning and the sun was already warm and bright in the summer sky so she decided to let in some fresh air. She wandered over to the living room window…


	12. The Truth Will Out

"Aaaaaah!" Betty's scream, through the now open window, awoke Daniel with a horrifying start and the next thing he knew he was being bombarded by stuff animals.

He clutched his chest; his heart was beating so fast he thought it was going to explode. Betty stood in front of him in her jeans and a bright pink summer blouse, the light and fresh style of her outfit completely contrasting the pale look of utter horror on her face. After a moment the terror started to fade and was slowly replaced by confusion.

"Daniel!" she said with dismay as she processed that it was him. "What are you doing here?"

He hopped up immediately. "Oh, hey Betty," he said, trying to sound casual which was virtually impossible with his heart pounding as hard as it was. "Nice morning, huh?"

She looked at him equally stunned and bewildered.

"Can I come in?" he asked, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Uh...Sure. Um, do you mind getting those?" She pointed to the stuffed animals lying on the fire escape.

He bent down and picked them up. "Interesting security plan but you might want to stitch some bricks inside them if you want them to have any real affect in intruders." He handed the fuzzy animals to her before she moved aside so he could climb in.

"You scared the hell out of me. You should be grateful I don't own a weapon," she replied in disbelief with an undercurrent of annoyance, as she replaced the animals on the window ledge. "And now, thanks to you, I will never feel safe in my apartment again because apparently you can climb up my fire escape."

"Not easily, believe me. But you should tell the super to move the dumpster a little further away from it." He reconsidered that for a moment. "Actually, maybe a lot further away."

"You're, um, bleeding." She pointed to his forehead.

His hand went up and he felt the wound. The blood was mostly dry. "I had a little…mishap." He gestured to the fire escape and she nodded.

"Let me get a cloth to clean it up." She disappeared for minute and returned with a warm wet washcloth. She directed him to the couch where he sat while she gently started wiping his cut. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's not that bad," he assured her. He tried to fill the awkwardness with polite conversation. "So how was your flight?"

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind or like she thought maybe the whack on the head was harder than they both realized. "It was fine."

"Oh." There was more silence while she continued cleaning the injury which was unusual considering this was Betty. Finally Daniel spoke again. "No turbulence?"

She sat back a little and examined his expression as if to assess if that was what he really wanted to talk about. "Okay, so apparently we're talking about my flight. If you must know, there was a lot of turbulence and I barely slept a wink because I was frightened and my mind was racing about…all sorts of things. And then they lost my luggage so I had to fill out a ton of paperwork and leave my phone number and address so they can get it to me when they find it."

Ah, lost luggage - that explained her delay.

"So is that why you're so tense?" he asked, subtly fishing about the proposal. When she gave him another funny look he started back tracking. "It's just…you look a little on edge and you're acting odd."

"Maybe I'm on edge because you were on my freakin' fire escape and scared the crap out of me," she suggested with dismay. "And really Daniel? _I'm_ the one who's acting odd? You were staked out outside my window like some kind of crazy person."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I guess that does seem a little strange."

"Ya think?" She placed the washcloth down on the back of the sofa crossed her arms over her chest looking moderately annoyed with him. "Why are you here?"

He tried to swallow the rock that had apparently taken up residence in his esophagus. Now that he was faced with it, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Regardless of whether he would tell her his feelings he needed to know if she'd accepted the proposal.

"Did you say yes?" he asked, searching her face for some clue before the words came.

She looked startled and confused.

"About the proposal," Daniel clarified. "Did you give him an answer? Did you tell Vincent you'd marry him?" His heart started pounding a little faster and the apprehension he was trying to keep at bay was creeping in.

"What?" She was even more confused now.

"Betty, it's killing me. I have to know if you are going to marry him. Wait, no…scrap that. You can't marry him."

Screw the martyr complex; she needed to know the truth before she made such an important life decision. His pulse was racing and he was finding it a little hard to breath. He couldn't sit still so he jumped up and started pacing back and forth across the tiny living room.

"What are you talking about?"

The living room was too short for three strides before he had to turn the other direction but two made him feel stupid - and kind of dizzy going at the fevered pace he was - so he stopped pacing and turned to face her.

"You've dated him a grand total of one month. Marrying him would be stupid. I won't let you do it." He realized his voice was getting high pitched and squeaky but didn't know what to do about it.

She blinked a few times in disbelief before speaking. "You won't _let_ me?"

"Uh…okay, bad choice of words. I mean, you _can_ marry him, obviously, and there is probably very little I could do to stop it. But you need to make this decision with all the facts and right now you don't have them. Listen Betty, marriage is a huge commitment and sure, maybe you feel like this is romantic and Vincent's great but you need to spend time getting to know a person before you commit to something so…permanent."

She was smirking a little.

"What?" This did not, at all, seem like an amusing conversation to him.

"That's rich coming from you. How long did you know Molly before you got married?" she asked pointedly.

"Bad example, there were extenuating circumstances."

"What about Sophia before you were engaged?" Betty asked.

"Another bad example. Look, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you. You and Vincent hardly know each other." He sat down beside her, resisting the urge to take her hand. "Does he even know how you take your coffee, or how about that you like raisins in your bagels and cinnamon rolls but not in your oatmeal cookies?"

"Why does that matter?" she asked, looking confused again.

"It's just symbolic of the fact that you haven't spent nearly enough time together. Does he know that you organize the items in your desk drawer by length first, and then by colour, that you can be unbelievably bossy and hardheaded, or that you're a little anal when it comes to organization and you freak out when someone messes with your 'system'?" He used air quotes around the word. He barely took a breath as he continued. "Or how about that your natural perkiness combined with too much caffeine, or even just too much excitement, creates a totally freakish reaction something akin to Rocky the flying squirrel on amphetamines – does he know that? Does he know that you laugh hysterically at stupid cartoons and sometimes cry during commercials, or that the best way to diffuse your anger is with pictures of cute kittens and bunnies, followed – in close second – by chocolate dip donuts? Does he know that you try to act all independent, liberated and pragmatic but deep down you're a hopeless romantic who believes in fairytales and happy endings; that you love your family passionately, are incredibly loyal, and have a deep rooted fear of change which makes this move to London just about the bravest thing I've ever seen," he swallowed hard. "Does he know all of that about you?"

"I don't know, probably not," she admitted softly.

"Well…he should." Daniel wasn't sure what else to add.

There was a long pause while she looked at him a little bewildered.

Finally she spoke. "I suppose if we were getting married it might be helpful if he knew all that," she admitted and Daniel nodded confident that he'd made his point. "But seeing as we're not it's not really relevant."

"Wait…you're not?"

"No. Why would you think I was going to marry Vincent?" She looked puzzled.

"Uh…because he proposed." It seemed logical to Daniel.

"Where did you hear that?"

"From your Dad. He said that you had to consider Vincent's proposal..."

Her expression of puzzlement slowly changed to mild amusement and then she started laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Vincent 'proposed' that I work with him on a photojournalism book he wants to do, not that I marry him. He's allowed to choose his own staff and he thinks we'll make a good team."

"Oh. OH!" Daniel couldn't be sure if he felt more relieved or idiotic. Idiotic was pretty high up there. And, for some reason, her reference to being a "good team" with Vincent really stung.

She started to explain a little more. "It would be at least a year long project, with travel all over the world, and I'd have to take a leave of absence from the magazine, if I could get one. I might have to quit. I've just started there and I can't imagine leaving already. Then again, it would be such an incredible experience working on a book."

Daniel nodded agreement but his mind was far from contemplating Betty's new project.

"So you called me..." he started to question.

"Because it was all I could think about and I wanted to talk to you. I've always valued your opinion."

"Except when you were leaving Mode," he reminded her.

She looked wounded and he immediately regretted bringing that up.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He changed the subject. "So why didn't you answer my calls?"

"Oh." She was startled by the sudden change in topic. "I didn't have my phone with me when I was out for my walk and then once I got back I started getting ready for the airport and figured I'd just talk to you when I came back. It's not like it's urgent. He's given me a little while to think about it." She changed her tone and the topic. "So what was with that spiel and why are you bossing me around anyway?"

"Uh…" He sat back down sheepishly on the end of the couch. "I was just concerned."

"Concerned?" She tilted her head to the side indicating she didn't believe him. "That's why you were hanging out on my fire escape - for who knows how long - just so you could talk to me?"

"It wasn't that long," he shrugged sheepishly.

"Still. That's a little extreme, don't you think? I have a phone."

"You weren't answering it," he reminded her.

"You could have called tomorrow."

"I couldn't wait until tomorrow. I was feeling a little panicked because of that whole Henry proposing thing and that stalking guy, Wilber or whatever his name was."

"What stocking guy?" Betty asked, completely perplexed. "And Henry…what?"

"It's not important now." He shook his head realizing he wasn't making any sense and not really wanting to explain. "What's important is that you're not marrying Vincent."

There was a long pause while she looked at him, examining his appearance for the first time. "You look awful."

"Thanks. I did shower and change, but then there was that brush with death on your fire escape."

"I don't mean…you know what I mean. Your eyes are bloodshot and you look like you haven't really slept," she said with concern and then she added curiously, "Brush with death?"

"Did you know fire escapes had retractable ladders?"

She nodded and looked like she was trying not to smile.

"And as for the other stuff, I haven't really slept. Well not sleep that didn't involve horrible, vivid nightmares," he admitted.

"Oh."

She didn't ask what the nightmares were about and Daniel didn't volunteer which led to a considerably awkward moment.

Finally Betty spoke to break the tension. "Are you hungry? I'm not sure what I have because I haven't been home for a while—"

"I didn't come for breakfast Betty."

"Oh. Well no, of course, you came to tell me it would be stupid to get engaged."

"I said it would be stupid to get engaged to Vincent because you hardly know him," he corrected. "Actually the real reason I came was to talk to you." He paused for a second to collect his thoughts.

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly. It was now or never and after what he went through between last night and this morning, it sure as hell wasn't going to be never.

"It's about us," he added slowly.

"Us? What about us?"

"Well…uh…sometimes there are changes in the way people feel about each other…" He looked at her, trying to feel his way through the conversation by gauging her responses.

Her eyes went wider and she looked a little panic stricken. Obviously she'd gotten the message but this could not possibly be a good sign.

She stood up quickly. "Well, even if you don't feel like anything to eat I want something."

Daniel gently grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. "We need to talk Betty and I think you know that. I also think you're afraid so you're going to try and avoid it. I feel like I've just been through the ringer trying to get here to speak to you this morning and so I would like to talk now. But I'm also not in the mood to try and convince you…of anything." He wasn't angry, just frustrated and exhausted.

She didn't answer or sit back down or even turn to face him, so he got up to leave and was almost at the door.

"Daniel wait," she pleaded. "Please don't go."

He stopped and turned around.

She sighed. "Can I make some coffee?"

He nodded.

She busied herself in the kitchen making coffee for a few minutes. He had to hand it to her she was the queen of preoccupation. But at least she was open to having this discussion at some point this morning so he just waited while she worked off whatever nervous energy she needed to.

A few minutes later she came over and handed Daniel a coffee and sat down with her own. She took a sip and stared intently into the mug. Obviously the ball was in his court.

"So…Betty, I have something I need to say." He put his coffee on the side table next to the wall. Then he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, and his courage.

"This is a new roast." she responded nervously, out of nowhere. "It's fair trade - I hate the thought of children picking my coffee beans instead of…"

Her sentence ended abruptly when he gently took the coffee out of her hand and placed it on the side table with his and then he took both of her hands.

"I don't want to talk about the coffee," he said.

She could hardly look at him. Her face was slightly flush with embarrassment and she looked like this conversation was painful for her. "Daniel, I know you want to talk about us and I agree that we should. It's just that everything is so confusing right now with all these things I have to think about. And once we talk about this it's going to change everything. I think right now, today, I just need you to act like everything is normal."

He smiled gently and caressed her hand. "I don't think I can do that," he said softly and she looked distressed with that response.

"Daniel please. I swear I won't act any differently. You can just pretend you don't—"

He gently pressed his lips into hers, silencing her. She almost immediately started kissing him back so warmly and with such meaning that he couldn't imagine that she hadn't been thinking about this at least a little, which filled him with some hope. But when he pulled back slowly he saw apprehension and a little fear, mixed with confusion. It made his heart ache. He lifted his hand up to her soft, warm cheek so he could caress it with his thumb imagining that somehow that would wipe the anxiety away.

"Betty, will you let me say something now? Please?"

She nodded cautiously.

"I don't want to pretend anymore. I've been pretending for too long. I can't sit back and watch you date Vincent and pretend it doesn't kill me inside. I can't stand around and listen to you talk about someone else and pretend I'm not the one who's in love with you."

Her eyes went a little wider but he just kept talking.

"I need to tell you how I feel because not telling you is driving me insane. You have no idea how it felt thinking Vincent proposed and I was helpless to stop it. I almost went crazy trying to get a hold of you on the phone. God Betty, I know you probably don't feel the same way and I'm not even sure you ever could but I can't pretend anymore that I don't want you to. I can't pretend that we're just friends - best friends - because we're not, at least not in my head. I love you. I think about you all of the time. Since I've been in London, all I could think about was getting the chance to tell you how I feel, and the irony is, my responsibility at Mode was the one thing keeping me from you. I would have shunned it altogether except I know it's my chance to prove - to you and to me - that I'm not a screw up anymore, that I can be counted on. That _you_ can count on me. I want you to count on me Betty. I don't want to just be your best friend and your ex-boss any more. I want more than that.

"I have no idea what your reaction to this is going to be and I only hope I haven't wrecked our friendship entirely because the only thing worse than knowing you don't feel the same way would be if I couldn't have you in my life in any capacity at all. But I also know that I can't be silent about it anymore – it's not fair to you and it's really not fair to me."

She stared at him as if she was trying to process things but didn't say anything for several long dazed seconds.

"Betty say something," he pleaded. "Say I'm an idiot for doing this to you when your whole, exciting, new career is in front of you. Say that you know too much about me and you could never feel that way. Say that you appreciate me as a friend and you need some time. Say anything." His mouth was dry now, his heart pounding and his palms sweating from the panic as the weight of his actions sunk in - he'd completely changed the dynamic of their relationship and there was no going back.

She pulled in the corner of her lower lip, slowly contemplating something and then she spoke very quietly.

"I think…I think I love you too."

"I know this was a lot to spring on—" His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. "Wait…what?"

"I think maybe I love you too," she smiled hesitantly, her eyes filling with tears.

That was not at all what he'd expected to hear. His heart was still pounding but in a good way now. "Betty—" he didn't want her to say it just to appease him or because she felt sorry for him not that he really thought she would.

She blinked back the tears. "I mean it Daniel. Well, I mean at least that I'm not positive but I think maybe I do. I thought you were trying to tell me you saw the crush and I was mortified. I tried to get rid of it and that's why I avoided you and then Vincent came along and he was sweet and romantic and helped me forget – sort of – but I could never really fall for him and I thought it was because I didn't want him to be another Henry. But it wasn't Henry, it was you. And then you were here, in London, and there was Rachel and it hated the idea of it. But it wasn't just Rachel, I hated the idea of you with anyone. But now I know it wasn't a stupid crush at all."

She was completely babbling and half of what she said didn't make sense to Daniel, but he didn't really care. The most important part had come out loud and clear and that was all that mattered to him right now.

Her eyes went wide with another realization. "You weren't interested in Rachel! She said she threw herself at you and you weren't interested." She said it like it was the most astounding, outrageous concept in existence.

He shook his head more relieved than ever that he hadn't listened to that stupid voice of Beck's in his head the other week.

"She thought you were gay," Betty smiled in amusement and then clasped her hand over her mouth while they both laughed. "Obviously she hadn't done her research," Betty said as their laughing subsided.

Suddenly they were quiet, just examining each other. Daniel was trying to absorb that this was finally real.

He gently brushed her hair back behind her shoulder. "I can't believe this. It feels like I've been waiting for this moment forever," he said softly as he bent down, cradling her face in his hands. He tenderly pressed his lips into hers and she placed her hands on his chest.

"I love you so much Betty," he whispered softly.

"I love you too." She leaned against his chest and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

He held her silently, gently caressing her arm. She shifted a little, so he leaned back into the couch in order that they'd both be more comfortable. He felt her tracing the collar of his shirt with her finger and he lifted his chin a little as he enjoyed the sensation. Then she pressed a tender kiss to his adam's apple. It was probably intended as sweet but somehow this intimacy with her ignited something. He kissed the top of her head, and then her temple, and her cheek. She turned her face up to him and he met her lips urgently. She kissed him back with the same kind of urgency, rubbing her hands over his chest and up around either side of his neck into his hair.

She was breathless when they pulled apart. He brushed the back of his fingers gingerly across her warm, pink cheeks. And her eyes…those eyes were betraying an emotion he'd recognized a thousand times in other women. But they needed to be smart about this. Moving too fast could wreck everything.

His head desperately wanted to keep everything cool but the rest of him wasn't readily listening to his head. He kissed her again and Betty responded earnestly. He reclined back into the corner of the sofa and Betty leaned over him, her hair cascading around their faces, enveloping them in a silky canopy. Her hands snaked around his torso and she pressed their bodies together. She started kissing across his jaw and down his neck. Daniel thought he needed to say something now, before he lost complete control of his logical mind which was happening rapidly.

"Betty…I think…uh…we need to slow down." It was difficult to even process the words let alone say them so he was pretty sure there wasn't any sincerity in his tone.

Almost exactly as the words came out - as if his feet had their own intentions – he slid his shoes off and they landed on the floor with a thud.

Betty turned to look at what had caused the noise and then turned back with the cutest smirk. "It looks like your feet have different ideas."

"I didn't want to put my shoes on your couch." He drew his knees up so he could slip then onto the sofa around behind her and she leaned back down for another kiss.

Her lips still connected to his as if she didn't want them to ever part, she pulled herself up along side of him so she could lie down along the outer edge of the sofa. Daniel pressed his back into the back of the couch so she'd have more room. They were lying on their sides now, face to glorious face examining each other but not saying a word.

He gently pulled her glasses off and reached to put them on the side table. She followed the motion with her eyes but didn't protest. Her face uninhibited now, he tenderly kissed wherever his lips landed. Her face was so soft and warm beneath his lips.

"This is so weird, it's like a dream," she whispered through his kisses.

"A good dream?" he questioned hopefully; he stopped kissing her face long enough to look into her eyes.

"An amazing dream," she breathed out in awe and he smiled. "I thought it was all me. I can't believe you feel the same way."

"Believe it Betty." He leaned in for another kiss that filled him with an ache the moment their lips touched.

She responded with such intensity, his heart raced. She pressed urgent, hungry kisses all along his neck as her hands caressed his chest and then encircled him so she could press their bodies together again.

"You're driving me crazy," he whispered as he ran his hands through her hair.

"The feeling's mutual," she said as she reached up and grasped his earlobe between her teeth and at the same time let her hands migrate down to his waist and then inward up underneath his shirt over the muscles of his abdomen and across his chest. Well, one hand, the other was kind of pinned between them on the narrow sofa. He groaned softly, immediately feeling constricted, like he had too many clothes on. And she definitely had way too many clothes on.

He glanced quickly at her cute blouse with its little frills along the arms and neckline and a million tiny buttons down the front.

"So many buttons," he whispered to himself with dismay.

Betty smiled as she noticed where he was looking. "Yours will come off easily," she said as she tugged his t-shirt up and he sat up just enough for her to pull it off. She immediately attacked his bare chest with hungry kisses the second she discarded the shirt.

He really wasn't thinking clearly at this point at all, and it was more out of some sick sense of decency bred out of God-only-knows-where because he had never, ever had it before, that he asked "Seriously Betty, don't you think we're moving a little fast?"

"Mmm hmm, definitely too fast." she said absently between kisses to his chest, before returning to his lips.

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer. Their arms were tangled around each others' torsos and their bodies pressed together tightly. Both of them forgetting for a moment where they were, and concentrating only on each other, on every sensation - Betty's eager hands across his back filling him with longing, his kisses on her neck causing her to gasp.

Someone's weight shifted only a little and then suddenly there was a quick lurch and a short hard drop.

"Ooof!" She let out a strange, air filled grunt as Daniel landed directly on top of her on the floor.

"God Betty, are you okay?" He examined her shocked, pale face. He hadn't been hurt because she'd cushioned his fall.

"Can't…breathe," she gasped and he immediately moved over so he wasn't crushing her.

He brushed the hair off of her face. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head and took a couple deep breaths. "I just got the wind knocked out of me."

He couldn't contain his amusement now that he knew she was alright so he started laughing. She looked stunned for a minute and then she started laughing too. Between the hard landing that was like a bucket of cold water and the humour they were now finding in it, the romantic mood was completely broken.

"That was probably for the best," he finally said once he stopped laughing.

She looked at him questioningly and teased "Says you, you landed on top."

"I didn't mean the fall, exactly, just the snap back to reality." he smiled gently. "Betty, I want you, really I do. And if I thought you could do this today without regretting it later I would totally be on board, but something tells me this might be rushing things a little."

She hesitated for what seemed like the longest moment of Daniel's life as she thought it through. "I love you Daniel. I wouldn't regret it."

"Really?" His eyes brightened hopefully. It was almost too good to be true.

She nodded with a smile and he leaned over to continue where they'd left off. "But," she pressed her hand to his chest to stop him. She looked at him apologetically. "It _would_ complicate things with this all being so new. You're right; we probably shouldn't catapult our relationship into completely uncharted territory like that."

He nodded with a small sigh. "I hate when I'm right."

She grinned and then sat up to grab his t-shirt off the back of the sofa. "You should probably put this back on."

"I guess it's too much temptation for you, huh?" he teased with a smirk. She shook her head with a smile and threw it on his head.

He slid the shirt over his head and then snatched the throw pillow off of the couch, tucking it under his head before he lay back down.

She looked at him with the sweetest smile and tilted her head to the side slightly. "Maybe you should take me out on a date first. I suppose that would be polite."

"I suppose," he grinned, opening his arms to indicate she should join him.

She lay down beside him and put her head on his chest.

"Maybe even two or three since I'm not really the kind of girl who sleeps with someone on the first date," she turned her head up to smile at him.

"Two or three?" Daniel said, realizing as soon as it was out how whiny it sounded.

"Maybe four or five," she teased with a smirk. "The point is, we have lots of time to figure it out."

"Lots of time," he echoed. He couldn't ever remember his heart feeling this full.

He was feeling a little nagging about something and he didn't want to start their relationship out with any secrets. "Now that all of this is out in the open, I kind of feel I need to tell you something in case Marc posts something on the internet."

"What?" She raised her head up to look at him again.

"This could go one of two ways. You could think it's kind of cute and romantic or you might think it's bizarre bordering on the edge of creepy," he warned.

"Just tell me what it is Daniel."

"Remember when you first started dating Vincent?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I went out with a woman named Marisa."

"So."

"She kind of looked like you." Betty looked confused. "A lot like you. Right down to the braces."

Betty started to laugh and covered her mouth with her hand. When she regained her composure she said, "You're right, that _is_ kind of bizarre and creepy."

"I was sort of hoping you'd see it the other way," Daniel admitted sheepishly.

"Don't worry, it's no worse than faking your recovery so you can try and sleep with your physiotherapist, or staking out your own date with Molly, or turning yourself into a giant cheesy to try and convince people you'd been to Brazil. Or how about that time you lied to me about how you got that black eye and I ended up coordinating a publicity shoot with the girl guides."

Daniel clamped his hand over her mouth. "We don't need a recap right now, okay Betty?" She nodded with his hand was still in place. Slowly he took it away.

She chuckled again and then placed her head down on his chest. He was filled with a dizzying warm sensation and he almost felt overwhelmed for a second. Somehow she knew all of that, and far worse, and yet it didn't seem to matter to her; she loved him anyway.

She gasped and lifted up her head at a realization. "Your therapy!"

"Yeah. Let's just say _I_ kind of thought it bordered a little on creepy too."

She giggled and put her head back down. They stayed like that for several minutes until Daniel heard her breathing slow and deepen and he realized she'd fallen asleep. So he closed his eyes, feeling more relaxed than he had in far too long and fell asleep too.


	13. Daydream Weaver

_Thanks so much to everyone who left such encouraging words on the last few chapters. I'm terribly sorry for such a long break between updates. Real life has been a bit of a kicker lately with almost no time to even read stories let alone focus enough to write. _

_I wanted to get further along in the story before I posted but realized, with the way RL was going, that wasn't going to happen so I figured I had better just post what was already finished before everyone forgets about this story entirely. I'm really hoping that the next update isn't so long coming. I'm working hard on it as we speak._

* * *

><p>Betty slept for a little over an hour before she awoke with a stiff neck. Sitting up, she stretched it out by tilting her head from side to side and shrugging her shoulders a few times. She half expected to be sitting in the uncomfortable seat of a 747 but instead she was sitting on the floor beside Daniel. The warm memory of earlier came rushing in inducing the biggest permagrin she'd ever had. It was kind of surreal. Did all of that really happen? Well, it must have, because here he was, still sleeping on her area rug spread out over top of her extremely hard parquet floor.<p>

She looked down at him, admiring his face and imagining those dimples that would fan out across his cheeks when he broke out one of his rare, truly genuine smiles; the kind that made his eyes sparkle. And his physique…wow, that physique, so under-appreciated by her until about an hour ago when she felt his firm muscles pressed against her curves. Her stomach flipped and she flushed a little with the memory of it. For a second she had a little trouble with her brain function. Why was she getting up out of his arms again?

A little rumble in her stomach reminded her. Right. She leaned over to give him a tiny kiss on the cheek, hoping she didn't wake him and then she turned to grab her glasses off of the end table. Slipping them on her face, she got up to go into the kitchen.

She put on some fresh coffee and rummaged around looking for something, anything she could eat for breakfast; the airplane meal seeming so meager and long ago at this time in the morning. She found a couple of bagels in the freezer and popped one of them into the toaster. She was searching through the fridge for some cream cheese to top them with, when she heard his soft voice directly behind her.

"Whacha doin'?" He grinned broadly, displaying some of those dimples of his and making her heart skip a beat. Was Daniel really making her feel this way? It was so weird.

"I'm making breakfast, or at least something that resembles breakfast. I don't have much here," she said, the cream cheese in hand. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat." He walked over and wrapped his arms around her. "Does it feel like earlier was a dream to you?" he asked softly.

"A little," she smiled bashfully.

"It really happened though, right?"

"Are you referring to that monumental profession of profound love for me?" She was trying to bring some semblance of normal into the room with her teasing.

"Actually, I was referring to the part where you jumped me and lost all self-control," he teased back with a grin that made her knees a little weak.

She blushed profusely and looked down. Weak knees, extensive blushing, heart skipping – so much for normal, maybe they needed to find a new normal.

He chuckled softly, amused by her reaction and pulled her closer to kiss the top of head.

"Can I, uh…take you out tonight?" The tone of his voice and the slight hesitation were belying a slight nervousness that Betty found utterly endearing coming from him.

"Like a date?" She looked up at him, the heat on her face dissipating.

"Not _like_ a date, an actual date, with no famous New York photographers and no associate editors, just us."

"That would be nice."

He bent down and kissed her sweetly before looking at her like he was trying to absorb it was real, his arms still firmly wrapped around her. That was comforting somehow; at least it was weird for him too.

"Are you going to let me go so I can finish getting breakfast and we can both get to work?" she eventually asked feeling a little unnerved by his attention.

"Probably not," he shook his head smiling.

"But you're going to be late."

"Even if I leave this very second, I'll be late by the time I go back to the hotel and change anyway, so I might as well go in later and claim I had a breakfast meeting."

"So now I've become one of your 'breakfast meetings'. How did I let this happen?" she questioned with a smile.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, few women can withstand this irresistible charm and these piercing blue eyes," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Let's not forget your extreme humility; that's always been the real attraction for me."

"Always, huh?" he waggled his eyebrows.

She shook her head at him just as the bagel popped up. They both looked over at it.

"You do realize you need to let me go in order for me to get that, don't you?" she asked and he nodded but didn't release her. "We're not going to be very productive today, at this rate," she grinned.

"Productivity is so overrated, don't you think?"

She looked at him funny. "That sounds almost like the old Daniel and not at all like the Daniel that's been in London working day and night for the past several weeks.

"That Daniel was stupid. He was wasting so much time he should have been doing this…" He bent down and kissed her temple and then her neck, repeatedly.

She inhaled deeply as her stomach flipped. The tingles from the kisses on her neck seemed to linger. Productivity did seem pretty overrated at this point.

She replied softly, trying to keep her voice even, "I'm not sure trying to save Mode could be considered 'wasting time'."

"I guess not, but it's not nearly as fun as this," he pulled back and gazed at her again.

"I know, but at least we have jobs we like, right? Not everyone can say that."

He grinned slightly and sighed as he let go of her so she could get the bagel and put the other one in. She went about her tasks of getting the bagels and coffee fixed, glancing occasionally behind her; he was standing there watching her with a look on his face that was making her self-conscious.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, the warmth on her face extending to the tips of her ears.

"Like what?"

"Like that…" She waved her finger self-consciously at him. "With that face, and those eyes."

"This is my regular face and I'm sorry but I can't do anything about the eyes; they're the ones I was born with."

"That is not your regular face. I've seen your regular face, and I can tell you, _that_ is not it."

"It is, Betty. This is my regular, plain old face," he insisted with a chuckle.

Thankfully his laugh made the intensity of his gaze fade.

"So where are we going to go tonight?" she asked, trying to change the topic. She handed him a plate with the toasted bagel.

"Well, I haven't had much time to plan anything seeing as I just found out a little over an hour ago that you weren't repulsed at the idea of a date with me," he reminded her.

"Oh right, of course not."

"But I'll figure something out. I have all day," he smiled mischievously.

"Wait, you're not going to plan something extravagant are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Since when have you known me to be extravagant?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "You're not seriously asking me that? What about plane tickets to Mexico, a first class, all expense paid trip to Rome, or flying my family in for the launch party? And all of that was before…this." She gestured awkwardly back and forth between them.

He grinned boyishly. "I like that there's a 'this'."

She tried to stay on topic despite the flip in her stomach. She looked away pretending to busy herself with wiping up the crumbs off of the counter; his smile was so adorable it was distracting. And how was it that for four years she never felt that, at all? "My point is: You should keep it reasonable."

"Reasonable is pretty subjective." He said casually taking bite of his bagel.

She stopped what she was doing to look at him. "I'm serious Daniel, don't go doing something crazy."

"What's your definition of crazy?" he asked after he swallowed his mouthful. He was trying not to smile.

"Spending more money than most people would on a building, or even a small car."

"What if it was a used car?" he teased, his eyes sparkling a little.

"Stop. You know what I mean. No flights to New York for the weekend, and no private resort villas."

"There's no point having money if you're not going to spend it."

"You can spend some…a _little_, just not a whole bunch. Don't spend more than a normal person would."

"And would that be a normal 'normal person' or a Betty Suarez 'normal person'? Because Betty Suarez can be pretty thrifty and if I recall, some of those "fun", free ideas you came up with for things to do around New York were pretty lame."

She swatted him. "And some of them were incredibly thoughtful and didn't break the bank," she reminded him.

"Oh no, you're not going to make me try and come up with something _thoughtful_ are you?" he exaggerated the word with feigned disgust and rolled his eyes.

She couldn't help but grin at him and shake her head. "I'm serious, nothing extravagant and nothing that requires passports, okay?" She thought for a second and then suggested "Maybe we should just go 'dutch', that will keep it simple."

He barked a laugh and then his mouth dropped open when he realized she was serious.

"You're serious? We're not going 'dutch' on our first date, or any date for that matter." He sounded almost offended at the suggestion.

"That's a little old fashioned of you," she furrowed her eyebrows accusingly.

"It's not old fashioned, Betty, it's common sense; if you were the rich one I'd make you pay for everything. Besides, if we went 'dutch' you'd have us doing a walking tour of some boring garden or worse, going to a museum," he rolled his eyes.

Her face dropped in offense. "That would be fun."

"Maybe, for a Sunday afternoon, but not for our first date," he took another mouthful of bagel.

The other bagel popped up and Betty fixed it for herself and then took a bite.

He finished chewing and swallowed. "I'll plan something 'normal person' reasonable, I promise. And I'll pick you up, and we'll go out and I'll pay for the whole thing."

"Okay, but just because a guy buys me dinner doesn't mean I have to sleep with him." she smirked.

He set his plate on the counter and pulled her close. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard; everybody knows that's exactly what it means. Whoever told you that must be an idiot," he smirked back.

* * *

><p>Betty slept for a few more hours after Daniel left her flat. She was exhausted from getting no sleep on the plane and figured she had a long day ahead so she needed at least another hour or two. Nobody was really expecting her in the office today anyway and she'd been working extra hours in New York as she gathered the information for the article and put it together. She was pleased with the progress of it so she cut herself a little slack.<p>

When she finally did go into the office she began to wonder whether she should even have bothered. She was completely distracted. Everything reminded her of Daniel. She couldn't stop thinking about him.

She sighed as she sat back at her desk and flipped through the binder they used as Londonesque's 'book' trying to focus on the content in it. She immediately began thinking about the time she'd brought the Mode book home and Daniel had come over to try and help her get it back from Gina Gambaro. She smiled softly and then realized she was daydreaming again so she shook her head to try and focus.

She flipped to an article one of her editors had been working on about fair trade programs and farms in developing countries – the catalyst for the fair trade coffee she'd recently started purchasing - which immediately sent her mind back to the coffee she'd made this morning and the intensity with which he looked at her when he plucked it out of her hand because he had something to say. She heaved a deep, contented sigh and smiled again. He had something life altering and utterly amazing to confess; her smile became broader and her heart felt like it would burst. At least until she realized she was daydreaming again and accomplishing absolutely nothing. It was agonizing having your brain invaded like this.

She closed the book and decided to check her email. She was able to focus on that for a few minutes for which she was grateful. An email from one of the advertisers had her pulling out the contract from a cosmetics company that had signed on with the magazine only last week. Again her mind drifted back to Mode and Fabia Cosmetics. In fact, it was kind of Fabia Cosmetics that had cemented her and Daniel as a team in the first place. What would have happened if Daniel had never come by her house to apologize and she hadn't given him a second chance?

She was startled out of her thoughts by Rachel's voice. "Now that is the look of someone distracted by something. An amorous encounter with one's sweetie, I presume."

Betty immediately sat up straighter and tried to look nonchalant. "Hi Rachel. Um…can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if you had a chance to look over that article yet. I have to do some revising of the size of it since we've decided to add that second book review, remember? I'd like to get started on it as soon as I can."

"Oh, right. I did look over it when I was in New York. I guess I forgot to send it back to you. Give me a minute and I'll email the file."

She turned back to her computer and clicked away, attaching the file to a new email. Only a couple of seconds later she had sent it, but she realized Rachel was still standing there.

"There, done." Betty smiled at her.

"So what's got you so distracted?" Rachel asked bluntly taking Betty a little by surprise.

"I'm not distracted."

"Oh please, Betty. I know a look like that. You are thinking about a man. How's Vincent? I assume you saw him when you were back home."

"I did. He's fine." Betty shifted a little uncomfortably.

"By the look on your face I'd say he's more than fine," Rachel grinned.

Betty left it. There was no point correcting her. Then she'd have to explain about Daniel which would lead to all sorts of awkward. So instead she just smiled innocently and was about to say she needed to get back to work when the petite young receptionist, Jennifer, appeared at the door to her office with the cutest little stuffed baby duck in her hand.

"Aww!" Betty intoned reflexively when she saw it.

"It was just delivered. It's for you," Jennifer's eyes were bright and curious as she handed it to her.

It was about the size of her hand, yellow, and so downy soft she instinctively rubbed it against her cheek. It was one of the most adorable stuffed animals she'd ever seen.

"There's no name but the note around its neck is interesting," Jennifer said with a grin.

"Why are you reading the note?" Betty asked, surprised.

"It's not a card in a sealed envelope. It's an open tag," she replied defensively pointing to it.

"What does it say?" Rachel asked curiously.

Jennifer reached over the desk to take another quick peek at it before Betty even had a chance to read it. "It says, _'Here is a guard duck to add to your collection. Don't let his appearance fool you, he's actually very fierce. I can't wait to see you tonight.'_"

"Ooooh," both ladies said at the same time and Betty's face instantly went warm, the heat spreading down her neck.

"Big date, I guess," Jennifer smirked. "And holy Hannah, apparently somebody can't wait to see you!"

Betty couldn't contain the huge grin that was expanding across her face.

"I didn't know Vincent came back to London with you," Rachel smiled curiously.

"Um…he didn't," Betty looked away quickly, placing the baby duck on her desk.

Everyone was silent and there was subtle tension in the air.

"I have to get back to the front desk," Jennifer replied turning to leave and giving Rachel a questioning look. Rachel just shrugged.

After she had gone she piped up. "So you have a big date tonight?" Her face was alight with curiosity. "And I'm gathering whoever had you distracted a few minutes ago was not the famous photographer from New York. You move almost as fast as I do. Didn't you just break up with Vincent last week…or the other day?"

"We didn't really 'break-up'." Betty explained to defend herself.

"Intriguing," Rachel commented with a smile. "You make me proud Betty, juggling two at once. Take it from me, it's a little tricky, so be careful. Granted, Vincent's in New York so it's a little easier to get away with something like that."

"I'm not still seeing Vincent," Betty replied quickly, a little shocked that Rachel would think she was two-timing him.

"You're not?" Now she sounded disappointed.

"No. I just meant, I wouldn't really say we 'broke up' because I'm not really sure we were…uh…" she wasn't sure what to call it so she just went with the opposite. "down?"

"Down?" Rachel was confused.

"I mean we weren't exclusively boyfriend and girlfriend, so I don't think you can call it a 'break-up'."

"Oh." She seemed to understand now. "So who is the fellow you're seeing tonight, hmm? Do I know him?"

This was awkward. "Uh…" She wasn't sure how to tell her although she figured it she'd find out eventually. Rachel looked at her oddly while she hesitated. "Actually…it's, uh…Daniel."

"Daniel?" She sounded a little surprised.

"Yeah, and I swear there was no history there, so I wasn't lying when I said that before," Betty braced herself for some kind of angry onslaught or some catty remark about "not accounting for people's taste".

"Oh." She looked thoughtful and didn't respond with anything negative.

"So you're not…upset?" Betty wasn't sure; maybe Rachel just thought it wiser not to offend her boss.

"Of course not. He's a nice, good-looking bloke. Someone should definitely snag him up. And seeing as you two have been friends for so long it only makes sense that you'd have a lot more patience helping him deal with his issues than most women would." She sounded completely sincere.

Betty didn't think there was any benefit to explaining that his "issues" had to do with his feelings for her. Instead she just nodded like Rachel had a point.

"I'd better get back to work," Rachel smiled. "Thanks for sending me the file."

Betty nodded back, feeling extremely relieved.

Just as Rachel was out the door she turned and added kindly. "It's nice, the two of you starting out as friends first. You guys know each other so well already. And I imagine with you two being so comfortable with each other it eliminates a lot of that awkwardness about first date sex. If everything cooperates for you mechanically, I mean." She suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I didn't mean anything by that…uh…offensively, or anything. Hopefully you have better luck than I did."

Betty feigned a sweet smile. "It's okay. I know what you meant."

Rachel's comment immediately sent Betty's mind into overdrive, and her heart into a bit of an arrhythmia. She'd been so excited about the "going out" part of the date with Daniel that she'd completely blanked out the part where he brought her home, which was really stupid, especially given this morning's activities. Or maybe she hadn't blanked it out as much as pushed it into her subconscious so she could deny it was in issue.

Their activities on the couch had come to a screeching halt as a result of the tumble off of it, and that was a good thing, a very good thing. In fact the more time Betty had to think about it, the more she was convinced that falling into bed with Daniel would be a huge mistake. This was such a gigantic step and sex changed everything. She didn't want to take this lightly. There were so many sound reasons why taking that aspect of their relationship slow would be a wise thing to do.

Of course this was entirely her opinion; she had no idea what he thought of the subject. To be honest, she didn't know if "slow" was even in his vocabulary in this context. The worst part was that while her head wanted to wait, the rest of her desperately didn't.

She groaned. She thought she was distracted before. Getting anything done today was going to be next to impossible.

She put her head in her hands and shook it back and forth a few times. She needed to talk to someone. Christina! She picked up her cell phone and selected Christina's name from the contact list.

It rang a few times before Christina answered jubilantly, "Betty! Are you back from New York? How was your trip?"

"Good. Really good." The words were sincere but she'd been unable to keep the anxiety out of her tone.

"That is not particularly convincing."

"No, really the trip was great. It's not that, it's just…I need some advice."

"Well that's what I'm hear for, so fire away," Christina

"So, uh, you know how I told you Daniel was in London helping with ModeUK?"

"Yeah, and you said you've hardly seen him because he's been working like a dog."

"Yeah. Well, when I got back from the airport yesterday morning he was at my apartment."

"Odd…and a little creepy."

"Not so much creepy as kind of sweet," Betty defended.

"How so?"

"Well, he couldn't get in, obviously, so he had to climb my fire escape…"

"So he's climbing your fire escape to wait for you to get home like some weird stalker. How is that sweet instead of creepy?" Christina didn't sound convinced.

"Let me finish. He was worried because of some miscommunication with my Dad. He thought Vincent had proposed and he was trying to stop me from making a huge mistake."

"Okay, maybe that's a tad sweet."

"That's not all. Here's the thing…" she took a big breath. "He told me he loves me."

Christina was silent for so long Betty wondered if she'd lost the connection.

"Christina, are you still there?"

"Yeah. Daniel Meade? He said he loves you?" She sounded puzzled, like the sentence together didn't make any sense.

"Well you don't have to sound so surprised about it," Betty said, unsure how she felt about Christina's shock.

"It's just that Daniel loving anything more than his own reflection in a mirror is a bit of a shock to me."

"He's not, at all, the same guy he was when you were at Mode."

"Yes, you have said that before. It's just a little hard to imagine."

"People change Christina, look at Stuart. You said he's very different now than he was before."

"That's very true. Okay, so Daniel Meade is in love with you. So what did you tell him?"

"I told him I loved him too," she answered softly.

"And you're certain it's love, Betty?"

"Yes, I am. I've never felt this way before…ever. Plus, I can't concentrate on anything; it's pathetic, you should see me. I try to focus on something and I end up daydreaming about him. It's like everything reminds me of him. He's become such an amazing person. He's so kind and sweet, and generous, and faithful."

"Yeah, yeah, and quite a looker too, I might add. Plus, if the rumours are true then the size of his, uh...bank account is nothing to sneeze at."

"Christina!"

"Oh, go on Betty, tell me you're not the least bit curious about the size of his bank account."

"Okay, are you talking about his actual bank account or is that code for something?"

"Either way," Christina said casually.

"Either way, this conversation is making me a little uncomfortable. And for the record, I have seen Daniel's bank account."

"Oh my gaaaawd Betty! When did this happen and why am I only hearing about it now? Tell me Luv, was it intentional, like he was offering a private viewing or was it an accident, like you happened to walk in on him in the loo or something?"

"Christina! I meant his actual bank account. You know, the place he keeps his money."

"Oh." Christina was very obviously disappointed. "Betty, don't pull the rug out from under a girl like that. That's like offering the tail end of a bottle of single malt whiskey only to find out, when you pour it, that it's not enough to wet your tongue."

"Sorry."

"So his actual bank account…is it impressive?"

"Let's just say, he has a lot of money."

"How much?"

"More than some small island nations."

"Oh, I see. That almost makes all the rest of the stuff redundant then, doesn't it?"

"I don't care about his money," Betty assured her.

"Of course not, Betty. No one would accuse you of that. But that metaphorical 'bank account' of his might be reason enough to keep him around."

"Christina…" Betty scolded her with her tone but she couldn't help smiling. Christina would never change, for that she was thankful. "Can we get back to the reason I called?"

"Of course."

Betty sighed. "We're supposed to go out tonight for our first date and I'm kind of nervous about it."

"Why?"

"Well, because it's Daniel. And I know he's not the same as he used to be but still, he probably hasn't been on very many dates that ended without…uh…" she paused for a minute awkwardly.

This gave Christina the opening to finish the sentence for her. "Making a withdrawl? Hmm, or a deposit? I'm not sure which works better with the metaphor. Which one do you think?"

"Uh, okay, I'm not liking the metaphor at all," Betty admitted with a cringe.

"And you're not ready for that?" Christina asked, getting back to the point.

"It's our first date." Betty reminded her; a little surprised that Christina would even question it.

"But you've known each other for a long time, Betty. And obviously you both have strong feelings for each other."

"I know, and this morning after he told me, we kind of got caught up in the moment and we were making out on my sofa..."

"Ooooh, making out on the sofa with Daniel…sooo hot."

"Oh gosh, Christina, it really was!" Betty groaned, warming all over with the memory of it.

"Details, Betty. I want details."

"Another time. I'm only on a short break and I'd like to sort my problem first. So if the tumble to the floor hadn't been the mood killer it was, our first time might have been this morning."

"The tumble to the floor? Cold, Betty, and not very smooth."

"Yeah I know, and then he was lying on top of me—"

"Oooh, Daniel on top, back to hot."

"But I couldn't breathe so he had to get off and then we started laughing."

"Laughing? Okay, now we're down right frosty."

"Well, it was funny. The thing is, I realize now - after thinking about it - that the fall was probably the best thing that could have happened. But the worst part of all of this is that even though my head keeps telling me it's a good idea to wait, a really big part of me doesn't want too."

"Blast that stupid head of yours Betty. It's always thinking too much."

"I'm serious. What would you do?"

"Well, if it was me, I'd have a couple of drinks to stop the yammering in my head, and then I'd listen to that other part."

"Christina…"

"Oh, alright, Betty. So apparently your head is the part we're supposed to listen to then?"

"Preferably. I'm just not ready; not tonight anyway. I mean, this is Daniel. It's seems like such a huge step for us and to me it's a big deal even if it's not to him."

"So you just need to set his sexpectations," Christina reasoned.

"His sexpectations," Betty echoed with amusement.

"Yeah, his—"

"I think the word is self-explanatory," she interrupted. "And how do I do that?"

"By talking to him. You've told me you guys talk about almost everything anyway."

Betty thought for a second. "I guess you're right."

"Besides, you've claimed for ages that he's changed so maybe it's a big deal to him too and he wants to wait."

"Maybe. But there was that little fling thing with Amanda he was doing a while ago."

"What fling thing?"

"It was nothing serious but they were sleeping together, again. So obviously he's still alright with casual."

"So maybe he's changed but this thing with Amanda was his sexception."

"His 'sexception'? I'm not exactly sure what that means," she admitted.

"It's like that blasted cinnamon roll in the coffee shop," she said as if it was obvious.

"Cinnamon roll?"

"Yeah, you know the one. It oogles you from behind the glass all twisty and sugary, dripping with icing and even though you never, ever intend to get it, one day in a moment of weakness you foolishly believe it can't possibly hurt to think about it for a minute. So you picture yourself dipping it in your coffee and the icing melting on your tongue, the ooey, gooey cinnamony goodness sliding down your throat and in that moment, you know you HAVE to have it. For some reason, whether you're just so bloody hungry or because you haven't had a treat for so long, you find yourself ordering it, and sniffing it, and savouring every luscious bite like it's the last treat you're ever going to have." Her voice started to crescendo in volume and intensity. "Maybe it was because you had too much to drink, maybe it was the red suit, or the mystery behind the white beard, or the fact he felt you up while you were sitting on his knee. Whatever the reason for your weakness, that one impulsive act does not define you. It was your Christmas party sexception; it does not necessarily mean you are the office tart! Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you Betty?" She was practically yelling when she'd finished.

"Not really, but I definitely need a cinnamon roll now. And, uh, are you sure we're still talking about Daniel?"

"Daniel?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the phone. "Oh, right…Daniel. I'm suggesting that maybe Amanda was his cinnamon roll."

"Yeah, but it was kind of on-going for several months."

"So, the man enjoys a good cinnamon roll. You can't really blame a guy for that," she reasoned. "Listen Betty, you said he's changed. Maybe he can still do casual but that doesn't mean that's what he's looking for with you. He said he loves you. If that's true, he'll understand where you're coming from. Just be honest with him. I'm sure it won't come as a surprise to him that you're not going to hop into bed with him. He knows you well enough to know that."

"I suppose you're right."

"Sure. Just don't drag your feet too long. From what I've heard Daniel Meade's sexecution is pretty sexceptional. Apparently, years of regular sexercise have developed his coordination and stamina and he has some pretty sextraordinary moves. And when it happens I want to hear everything."

"Christina, are you just going start everything with 'sex'?"

"Ah, I try Luv, and usually Stuart's more than willing but sometimes the context doesn't lend itself very easily, especially with little William around," she teased.

"Christina…" Betty was grinning broadly, trying not to laugh. She felt a sudden surge of affection for her. "I really miss you."

"I miss you to, Betty. We need to arrange a good old fashioned hen night one of these weekends when you're not too busy with your new man, don't you think? Ooooh, I have an idea. Let's fix it so it happens right after your first roll in the sac and then all the juicy details will be fresh in your memory. Although I would imagine Daniel Meade is pretty memorable anyway."

Betty gasped. "Oh my gosh, he kind of is, isn't he?"

"What, memorable? If the stories are to be believed."

"No. My man?" It was still hard to imagine and now the implications were finally setting in.

"I'd say if he's already using the 'L' word and you haven't even been on a date, then you've got him pretty well hooked, Betty."


	14. First Date

_Thanks again to everyone for the nice feedback. I too really liked Christina and was sad when they wrote her character out, but was incredibly happy to see her again in London Calling.  
><em>

_Oh my goodness, such Detty fluff ahead...**beware**! Not of the rating (that hasn't changed) but of the sickening sweetness especially if that's not your thing. I'm sorry, there's not much drama in the next two chapters, but the fluff is not gratuitous, it's serving a purpose to set a tone (well I hope, anyway, at least that's what I'm trying to do). And wow, it's wordy but I just LOVE these two so I guess you have to bear with me.  
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_Hope you like it.  
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* * *

><p>Daniel buzzed up to Betty's apartment and she let him into the building. He took the three flights up to Betty's floor. The lighting in the stairwell was dim and it was made bleaker by one of the partially burnt out florescent tubes casting only a third of the light it should have and flickering so frequently Daniel thought it would give him a seizure if he had to endure it for very long. It had him wondering about Betty's safety as she made her way home on those evenings she worked late at the office.<p>

He reached her floor and started walking down the corridor just as Betty's neighbour from across the hall exited his apartment. Daniel could hear the droning buzz of whatever music was blaring through the guy's headphones from down the hall. He was so ghostly pale it was creepy; of course in his defense, wearing all black did tend to wash you out if you had fair skin, and that combination of slate eyeliner, ebony lipstick, jet black hair dye and onyx nail polish probably wasn't particularly flattering on anyone. But it was the tattoo on his forearm - a serpent bearing its fangs, wrapped around the neck of a vampire, also bearing his fangs and wielding a sickle with the word "die" across the blade - that was the most unnerving. It made Daniel wish that he could supplement Betty's rent so she could live in a better neighbourhood, in a brighter building, without the undead living across the hall. Thankfully, at least her building was secure…of course if it was the neighbours you had to worry about it didn't much matter that outsiders couldn't just walk in.

"Hey," the neighbour grunted and nodded to him as he past. Daniel smiled and nodded back. At least he was friendly.

As he made his way to Betty's door, he reflected on how remarkably nervous he was considering it was just a date. But it wasn't just a date and that was precisely the point. It was a date with Betty. He'd been longing for a chance like this for months and he didn't want to blow it, which was stupid really, because what could he possibly do on the date tonight that could compare to some of the idiotic maneuvers he'd pulled in all the time they worked together and yet, here she was, still willing to take a chance on him. Some how this information wasn't providing much comfort to his sweaty palms and that stupid knot in his stomach, though.

He paused at her door, smoothed his blue and purple striped tie over the blue shirt he'd picked out to make his eyes pop, and then knocked.

"I'm happy to see you decided to use the door tonight," she teased with a huge radiant grin as soon as she opened the door.

"Funny," he responded sarcastically.

He was thankful for the teasing though, because somehow it made the nerves melt away. He held out a small bouquet of wild flowers that he had bought on the way over. When he'd seen it in the flower shop, he knew it was perfect. It was modest but beautiful and full of colour – _kind of like Betty_, he mused.

"Aw, are these for me?" she asked, taking them.

He gave a quick glance around her apartment and then said smartly "Unless Kate Beckinsale is hiding out in here somewhere. She's not, is she?"

She chuckled and shook her head calling him a dork before she walked into the kitchen to put them into a vase.

He watched from the doorway as she stretched, standing on tiptoes even in her heels to try and reach the second shelf of her cupboard.

"You need a stool," he grinned.

"Or just someone tall," she looked at him pointedly so he came up behind her and grabbed the vase for her.

He admired her as she busied herself filling the vase with water and putting the flowers in it. She looked smart tonight in a plum coloured fitted skirt with a black short sleeve blouse, and a scarf colourful enough to remind him that Betty was the architect of the outfit.

"You look really nice, Betty."

"Thanks," she smiled bashfully, turning around to face him.

"I, uh, met your neighbour," he commented trying to sound casual.

"Chris?" she asked.

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. A guy in black everything, with a funky tattoo." No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that tiny hint of anxiety out of his voice.

Betty obviously noticed because she smiled knowingly. "Yeah, that's Chris. He's really nice."

Daniel raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"He is," she insisted. "I thought you'd learned, you can't judge a book by its cover."

"I wasn't. I was judging it by it's illustration of a snake and a vampire wishing me a violent death by means of a sickle. And why does a vampire need a sickle anyway? Doesn't he just use his teeth?"

Betty laughed at him and fussed once more with the flowers in the vase before she put them in the centre of her kitchen table. "He's an artist and he's really good. I think he designed that tattoo himself."

"Great," Daniel said sarcastically, not feeling the least bit encouraged knowing the man's mind actually conjured up that freaky image.

"He's studying graphic design in case his art doesn't earn him a living. See, a smart, contributing member of society. He's just…expressive, in a dark way."

He was unsure if he felt better or not. Leave it to Betty to get to know the scary looking guy across the hall and find some redeeming qualities in him even if the sun would scorch his skin and he didn't have a reflection.

He thought of something else. "You know the light in the stairwell is burnt out so it's pretty dim there. You should really tell the superintendent so he can fix it. Or does he keep it that way to appease the vampires? Did he move that dumpster by the way?"

She examined his worried expression and put her hand on his forearm in an attempt to be reassuring. "It's fine Daniel. The building is fine, the neighbours are fine, the dumpster is fine. You worry too much."

"I like to think of it as being protective," he looked at her meaningfully.

"Overprotective, you mean," she corrected him with a soft smile.

"Whatever. Are you ready? We should go; I kept the cab waiting downstairs."

"Sure."

* * *

><p>The cab pulled up to the restaurant and Daniel and Betty got out. Although not impressive from the outside, once they were inside the restaurant, it was modern and elegant. The oval shaped light fixtures that hung on long supports above the tables from an enormously tall ceiling made everything seem to sparkle, even the water in the glasses. Chrome and white leather high-back chairs were situated around tables adorned simply with white tablecloths and a single white hurricane candle in the centre. The most prominent feature though, was a spectacular view from floor-to-ceiling widows of the Parliament Buildings and Big Ben from across the Thames. Betty gaped a little as she took it in. It was still daylight but Betty imagined that after dark, with it all lit up, it would be an amazing sight.<p>

After finding their reservation, the hostess led them to a table by one of the windows.

They were situated on adjacent sides of the table rather than directly across from each other, which made conversing in the busy restaurant easier.

"It's a beautiful restaurant," she said looking around.

"Yeah, it is. Do you want some wine?"

"Sure."

Daniel ordered some wine she'd never heard of (and didn't want to think of the price of) but it certainly was delicious. Their conversation over dinner was flirty and fun. It seemed to Betty that Daniel was taking every opportunity to hold her hand or lightly touch her arm, made easier by the fact they weren't sitting across the table from one another. Every touch induced either tingles, goosebumps, or a gigantic flip in her stomach; if this was their new normal she was really, really going to like it. He was silly, sweet and charming - still Daniel, but with flirting that kept her pulse slightly elevated. Her face was warm, her senses were heightened and she felt so alive. Maybe it was the wine, but she didn't think so. She was pretty sure it was him.

They had two different deserts at the end of the meal which they shared. When it came down to the last bite of chocolate cheesecake Daniel offered it to her.

"I'm full. You can have it."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and then proceeded to watch as he scooped it on his spoon and brought it up to his lips. He paused before putting it in his mouth, examining her expression.

"Liar, you want it."

"No, I'm full, honest," she insisted.

He pushed the spoon at her, "Here."

"No," she clamped her mouth closed stubbornly and he ended up smudging cheesecake over her lips.

Daniel chuckled. "See, if you would have just eaten it you wouldn't be a mess now." He put the spoon down on the plate and picked up his napkin. "I'll help."

He paused for a second, looked briefly down at the napkin and then a mischievous look spread across his face. Before Betty even realized what was happening, he leaned in and captured her lips with his in a kiss that made her slightly dizzy. She felt the tip of his tongue, warm and teasing, cleaning up the chocolate slowly and sensually. Her mind went blank as she melted into it and automatically responded to him. She lost herself, forgetting where she was for a minute or two or three as everything seemed to fade away. Her mind racing with all the promises his kiss was suggesting.

As soon as he broke from the kiss and she saw his smug look, the reality of their immediate environment flooded in. Her ears automatically tuned back into the clinking of plates and glasses, the faint chattering of strangers, and the soft jazz music in the background. Her face was flushed, partly in embarrassment, but mainly from where her imagination had taken her during that kiss. She quickly scanned the nearby tables to see if anyone was paying undue attention but it didn't look like it. How was it that he made her lose herself like that? This did not bode well for the end of the evening; not if she wanted to keep her head about her.

"What was that?" she whispered at him wide-eyed.

"What? You needed my help; I was helping," he said innocently.

"Helping?" She looked at him dubiously. "Yourself maybe," she said accusingly.

"Hey, you were not complaining, quite the opposite in fact," he replied with a smirk causing a brief recurrence of the heat that was slowly fading from her cheeks. Then he seemed to examine her face and added with amusement, "You are so embarrassed. It was just a kiss Betty. Granted it was hot and steamy, but no clothes came off and I'm pretty sure nobody noticed how much you were getting into it except for maybe grandma, over there." He gestured subtly with his head to a table behind Betty where an elegant older lady sat glaring at them with disapproval, at least until Betty caught her eye and then she turned away quickly.

"How much _I_ was—" She didn't bother finishing that sentence; it's not like she could really argue that point with him; now the heat was expanding down her neck. "I find it interesting that your gauge of whether affection is publicly appropriate starts with clothes coming off," she smirked, deflecting his comment back to him.

He grinned back. "You have to draw the line somewhere. Are you going to eat this last piece or what?" He picked up the spoon.

"No, you are," she said. "I'm going to excuse myself and hide out in the washroom in shame until it's time to go," she joked as she stood up.

When she came back, Daniel had already paid the bill and was finishing his wine.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked and she nodded. "We don't want to be late."

They stood quietly outside of the restaurant waiting for the cab Daniel had used his cell phone to call. He was holding her hand and caressing it gently with his thumb again. She was beginning to recognize it as one of the ways he released his pent up energy, like his incessant pacing or frantic neck rubbing, only much subtler.

"So, where are we going?" she grinned enthusiastically after they had climbed back into the back seat.

"I'm taking you to the circus," he answered with a straight face.

"The circus?" She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him.

"Well, not the three ring, Barnum and Bailey type with elephants and horses."

"What type then?" Now she was really curious.

"The Cirque du Soleil type." He held up the tickets.

Her mouth dropped open.

"Shut up!" She squealed enthusiastically, grabbing hold of the tickets.

Daniel laughed as the cab driver quickly glanced up into his mirror.

"I've always wanted to go to one of their shows. How did you know?"

"I didn't. Well, not really. I texted Justin this afternoon to ask him if he knew of anything fun that you wanted to do and didn't get a chance to while he was visiting. He said he couldn't think of anything and then jokingly added that I should just take you out for a walk in the street because street performers seemed to mesmerize you, at least the acrobats and jugglers."

"Well, they're awesome you should see these guys, all contorted and balancing in weird positions."

"Justin said they couldn't pull you away from it."

Betty laughed. "Yeah, Hilda was getting angry with me because she was starving but I wanted to stay until the end of their show."

"So I got to thinking about what was kind of like that and this popped into my head."

She froze for a second and looked at him suspiciously. "Wait. Didn't you once call them 'Cirque du so lame'?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "That was for a fashion week theme…besides, you've always wanted to see one of them, remember? Maybe I should keep an open mind."

Betty brightened immediately. "Open minds are good," she beamed. "I can't believe you texted Justin," she looked at him with a little amazement, unable to keep the delighted expression off of her face.

He shrugged. "I figured if anyone would have an idea, he would. I wanted to do something—"

"Thoughtful?" she concluded for him with a big smile.

"I had to go the thoughtful route. You tied my hands by insisting no passports, so the trip to Paris was out," he said mischievously.

"Paris?" she questioned softly.

She immediately imagined a romantic candlelight dinner and then a walk, hand in hand up the bustling Champs Élysées to the Arc du Triomphe, brightly lit on a warm summer evening. All the while they would be dodging other tourists and the café's and restaurants jetting out into the sidewalk, and stopping to window shop at the boutiques along the way.

"Yeah, and that whole extravagance discussion made it pretty clear that the hot air balloon ride was out of the question too."

"Right," she agreed outwardly, but now her imagination took her on a romantic sunset sail over the English country side with Daniel standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her, and the lights of London spread out in the distance as the sun slowly disappeared; it would be breathtaking and exhilarating.

He examined her face and then added, "But you care more about thoughtful anyway so I'm sure the Cirque du Soleil tickets are just fine."

"They're perfect," she insisted, slightly annoyed at herself for getting caught up like that.

The tickets had been perfect; at least until he'd enticed her with those other suggestions which she knew he was doing on purpose, trying to prove a point.

"I'm sure sitting in our seats watching people soaring through the air is just as fun as actually soaring through the air would be."

"It is," she said looking him in the face with determination.

"And going to a show with a French name almost makes it feel like we're in France." His smugness was evident.

"Would you stop? I got your point already. For your information, I am very excited about the show because I _have _always wanted to go. It's going to be great. I don't need trips to Paris or fancy balloon rides over the countryside."

He was serious now. "I know you don't, and I also know that you don't care about my money, Betty. You don't have to prove that to me by not allowing me to spend any of it on you."

"You bought these tickets and dinner, didn't you?"

"You know what I mean." He looked at her intently.

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it? Just a little?"

She thought about it for a second and then conceded with a sigh. "Okay, maybe a little. It's just that I would feel uncomfortable if you spent a bunch of money on me, especially now."

"Before it was okay, but now it's not?" He looked sincere but a little confused.

"Well, it was uncomfortable before too, but at least I could justify it because I _was_ an awesome assistant and I did deserve the occasional bonus for all my ingenuity and initiative, don't you think?" she grinned.

"Definitely." He grinned back. "Betty, the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. But to be honest, it's fun spending money especially on the people you care about and I can't think of anyone more deserving of nice things than you are. Can we make a deal? You let me splurge once in a while, for something fun, not frivolous, without giving me a hard time about it, and I promise I won't go overboard or make it so extravagant it makes you uncomfortable."

She nodded agreement with a small smile. "Well, Paris is beautiful."

"It definitely is," he agreed with a squeeze of her hand.

"And a hot air balloon ride would be incredibly romantic."

"It would. But for the record they are generally three hour trips and you have to give them a heads up of at least a few days. It takes time to get one ready."

"Go figure," she grinned at him, inwardly thrilled that he'd actually looked into it.

The warm moment was quickly broken by one of Betty's squeals, only slightly muted, as the cab turned a corner and the pavilion came into view.

"Oh my gosh, it's an actual circus tent! I thought it would be in a building."

She leaned closer to the window to have a better look at the massive, blue and yellow big top that seemed to be erected in the middle of a large parking lot, concession stands were sprinkled in strategic locations and already tons of people were milling about.

"Wow, it really is like a circus," she whispered dreamily.

"What were you expecting?" he asked sincerely.

"I don't know. Something different, I guess, but I don't really know what."

"I was expecting something more Las Vegasy," he admitted.

"What does that even mean?" she asked, amused by his description.

"Something gaudier with more glitz, I suppose, "he answered seriously and then added, "and maybe Celine Dion belting out that 'Titanic' song from a platform somewhere," he grinned at his own humour.

Betty laughed and shook her head at him.

It was a lot like the circus on the outside, but inside you could hardly believe it was a circus tent. It seemed much more like an auditorium or a stadium with the number of seats, the huge stage in the centre and the complex set up of lighting and mechanics. It was hard to believe this was a migratory show.

Betty loved the show even more than she initially thought she would. The costumes were remarkably detailed and extravagant considering the stunts the performers needed to pull off wearing them; the atmosphere incredible, circus-like but with an elegance to it; and the show had a theme, with a story that the costumes, music and every detail seemed to highlight; mostly though, it was the acrobats and their stunts – they were exhilarating maneuvers, and completely inhuman. More than a few times she had to duck her head and look away briefly because she dreaded a horrific tragedy, the result of a collision or fall. Apparently Daniel was amused by it, particularly at one of the most death defying points.

"I thought you always wanted to see this," he chuckled as she ducked her head into his shoulder to hide her eyes.

"I just don't want to witness her plummeting to her doom," she mumbled into his shoulder, referring to the woman spinning thirty feet in the air in the centre of a large hoop she was holding onto by her feet. "Is it over?"

"Yes."

She looked up but she was still up there, only now she was doing a weird contorted handstand in the middle of the hoop. She had no brace, no support wires, and no net underneath her.

"You said it was over," she ducked her head quickly again just as she started spinning in the opposite direction, this time jostling the bag of popcorn he was holding onto so that a few kernels spilled out.

"That trick was over, she's doing something different now," he chuckled again.

There was a collective gasp from the audience. "What happened?" Betty asked excitedly, afraid to look.

"She fell!" Daniel exclaimed sounding horrified.

"What!" Betty's heart stopped and she looked up quickly, only to see her doing another contortion.

Daniel laughed. "You didn't want to see the fall but you sure were eager to see the gory aftermath on the stage," he teased.

"Shut up," she elbowed him, causing him to shake the bag and spill some more popcorn.

"Hey, you're wasting the popcorn," he grinned as he switched the bag to the other hand.

"You know, I would be fine if she at least had a net under her."

She was actually trying to watch now because she hated that she'd missed whatever made the audience gasp but her blood pressure was definitely up.

Daniel noticed her obvious discomfort. "Relax Betty, she's a professional."

"And you've never had a bad day at work?"

He laughed again and took her hand with his free one, entwining his fingers in hers. "You are adorable."

His eyes were bright and he looked happier than she'd seen him in a really long time…maybe ever. Was that because of her? She dared to believe that maybe she was because, despite the agony of the acrobatic act she was too on edge to enjoy properly, she was definitely happier than she'd been in a long time too.

When the show was over, they excited the tent with the crowd and started walking down to sidewalk to get out of the way of the masses behind them. The smell of freshly popped popcorn from a concession cart they walked past, the excitement of the crowd, and the thrill of the performance had Betty grinning from ear to ear.

"So? What did you think of the show?" she asked him, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"It was okay," he answered, his expression muted.

"Okay?" She looked at him trying to assess if he was kidding. "Were you watching the same show I was?"

"Actually, _I _was watching the show, _you_ were covering your face," he reminded her.

"Well, I don't know what you were watching, but I thought it was awesome," she replied stubbornly, ignoring his comment.

He laughed gently; his expression warmed and she could tell he was teasing her. "It was pretty amazing."

"See? It pays to be open minded about these kinds of things."

"I guess it does," he agreed. He suddenly looked a little apprehensive. "So, I was wondering if you wanted to, uh, maybe come back to my place?"

"'Your place' is a hotel suite, Daniel. Did you forget?" she joked with a smirk.

Daniel was staying in the same hotel, The Royal Palisade, that he'd stayed at when he'd come for the launch, in a similar suite. Apparently he secured a "good rate" for booking full weeks at a time. Betty had rolled her eyes at him when he'd told her. She couldn't imagine getting a good rate at that particular hotel at all, but everything was relative, she supposed.

"Actually, I didn't," he replied with a look that sent shivers up her spine and made her knees momentarily week.

Her smirk turned to a bashful smile and she looked down at the sidewalk as the walked along.

"So do you plan on living in a hotel for much longer?" she asked, avoiding his question.

"Nope. I have a real-estate agent looking into finding something a little more permanent and I've already got some places I need to check out."

She nodded. "That's good. Renting or buying?" she asked casually, trying to steer the conversation, which was stupid because she was going to have to answer his question eventually.

"Probably just renting for now." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "You didn't answer my question."

A few people from behind them, squeezed by on the narrow sidewalk, and she waited for them to pass. They needed to talk. They really needed to talk. But out here on the busy sidewalk was not an ideal place for this conversation. Still, she wasn't sure what signals it might send if she went back to his hotel.

He sensed her hesitation. "Don't worry Betty. We can just hang out, honest. There's no pressure. I just don't want the evening to end yet," he smiled gently and warmly caressed the hand he was holding onto.

"Okay," she agreed softly, feeling relieved for the moment. "On one condition: You keep all your voodoo to yourself."

"Voodoo?" he was genuinely perplexed. They started walking again.

"Yeah, whatever lines and looks you use that seem to get you whatever you want when it comes to women," she teased with a sly smile.

He chuckled and played along with her. "Oh Betty, I would never try to use any of that on you. It would be a waist of time because you wouldn't fall for it anyway, you know me too well."

"I do," she responded confidently.

"You do," he agreed sincerely, squeezing her hand. "I'll hail a cab."

"Um…could we maybe walk a bit first? It's nice out."

"Are you sure? You're wearing heels," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I'm sure. We don't need to walk the entire way but it might be nice to walk a little." She wanted a little time before she had to be alone with him and confront the issue.

"Okay."

They spent the next several minutes in relaxed conversation. It wasn't until Betty's feet started to get achy from the heels that they hailed a cab, and it wasn't actually until the cab ride that the awkwardness started to appear.

They were silent the entire way in the cab. The elevator on the way up to his floor was empty and yet they still didn't speak. He looked over at her a few times and she smiled politely before looking away bashfully. Even on the long walk down the hallway to the door of his suite they were silent. The thick tension between them was making Betty feel uneasy and as much as she wished they didn't have to have the awkward conversation, a part of her couldn't wait to clear this unbearable heaviness out of the air.

Finally, once they were inside and the door was closed Daniel spoke. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked as he walked over to the wet bar.

"No thanks." Betty wandered over to the sofa and sat down.

Daniel pulled out a beer and came over to join her.

"Sooo," he said awkwardly as he sat down, taking a sip of his beer.

"Ya," she responded equally as awkward and fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirt.

"This should not be weird. I mean we've known each other for ages and now all of a sudden there's nothing to say?" He placed his beer on the oak coffee table in front of the sofa.

"There's a lot to say," Betty corrected him. "We're just not saying it."

"Right." He nodded but didn't add anything.

They sat in awkward silence for a minute and then both spoke at once.

"Daniel—"

"Betty—"

They both smiled and chuckled slightly.

"You first," Daniel nodded to her.

She looked at him with surprise. "Oh sure, _now_, because it's awkward and uncomfortable you're polite. Usually you're determined to make sure you say your piece before giving me a chance to talk."

His mouth dropped open in slight offense. "I am not."

"Are you kidding me? You totally are." She started mocking him. "Me first, Betty. Let me say something first, Betty. First I need to tell you something, Betty."

"I don't do that." He shook his head firmly, denying it.

"Yes, you do," she nodded adamantly with a chuckle, surprised he didn't recognize it. "And you know you should stop doing it because sometimes you miss out on some important infor—"

Betty suddenly felt his lips against hers, slightly cool from the cold bottle and tasting of beer; a taste she'd never fully appreciated until this very moment. She relaxed and kissed him back, silently wishing he'd wrap his arms around her so she could melt into them and feel the firmness of his muscles against her like she had this morning. For her own part she held back. She desperately wanted to keep her head tonight, especially since they still needed to talk.

Instead of embracing her though, his hand came up and slid in, over her shoulder, under her hair, to the nape of her neck causing her to inhale sharply. She was startled by the intense way her body responded to his touch.

"Daniel…" she whispered almost breathlessly.

"I had a dream like this," he whispered back with amusement and a little awe in his tone as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"What?" Her brain felt a little fuzzy after that kiss and he wasn't making sense.

"It's not important." He pulled back a little and smiled.

"You are totally into ambushing. I had no idea." Betty shook her head.

"I just finally figured out a way to stop your incessant rambling," he smirked and she swatted his forearm.

"So, I guess we should talk." she suggested bringing them back to the point.

"We should definitely talk," he agreed nodding.

"Are you going to go first?" She bit her lip to hide the smile.

"I'm going to ignore that," he said as he shifted a little on the sofa. He took her hand and fidgeted nervously for a second before he spoke. Finally, he started "I think it's awkward because of the, uh…sex."

"Really? I had no idea that's what issue was," Betty replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

He looked at her a little stunned. "You're making fun of me."

"Is it that obvious?" She tried not to laugh, figuring that probably wouldn't impress him.

"Okay, you go first then," he said with exasperation.

Her eyes widened a little; she didn't expect him to pass the buck so quickly. "I never said I wanted to go—"

"Nuh uh, you're making fun of me, so you go first." He gestured to her, his face determined.

She took a big breath and then she blurted out quickly. "I'm not ready."

"To talk about this?" He looked perplexed.

"No, not that. I'm not ready for…" she gestured awkwardly. "You know..."

"Sex, Betty. You can say the word." He was trying unsuccessfully not to smile but the amusement was obvious in his eyes anyway.

"I know," she replied defensively, her face warming slightly. "Sex. I'm not ready for sex." She forced herself to look him in the face even though she didn't want to.

"This is so bizarre. We've talked about sex a lot so why is it so difficult to talk about it now?"

"Well, we've never talked about it as it pertains to us."

"No, we haven't," he agreed. "But I guess we are now."

She nodded slowly. "I know it probably sounds strange for me to say I'm not ready when I practically fell into bed this morning but I've been thinking about it a lot…"she started apologetically.

"It's okay," he said interrupting her explanation.

"It is?"

"Of course it is."

"Oh." She felt oddly deflated. Shouldn't he put up some resistance or pout a little or something? "So that's it? You're not going to try and convince me or anything?"

He grinned. "Do you want me to try and convince you?"

"No." She shook her head.

"Are you sure? Because you kind of sound like you want me to try and convince you. I have to warn you though, I can be pretty persuasive."

"I don't doubt that, at all," she smirked. "No, I don't want you to try and convince me. This whole admission of our feelings thing happened so suddenly and I need time to get my head around it."

"That's fair. I knew this morning was happening kind of fast."

"So you're fine with it then?"

"Sure. I mean, if you were ready that would be okay too…actually, probably more than okay. But you're not, so we'll wait."

"So…you're ready?" she asked cautiously.

"Are you seriously asking me that? I'm always ready." He gave her an odd look.

"I just mean that it's us, and that's a huge step. It changes everything."

"Things have already changed in my mind and there is no going back. I love you Betty. You are beautiful, and sweet, and funny. You are so full of life and I'm pretty sure anyone who has ever known you has become a better person because of it. I already feel so close to you, it's like it would be the most natural thing in the world, not to mention the most amazing." The earnest look in his eyes and the way his voice lowered with desire at the end of that sentence almost made her change her mind about taking it slow.

"Wow," she whispered, half under her breath.

"What?"

"I just finally saw it. Years of wondering how on earth you got women to jump into bed with you, and I finally get it. That's the voodoo."

"You're making fun of me again, aren't you?"

"Only partially this time, honest," she smiled.

He shook his head at her teasing but then got more serious. "I swear, I'm not trying to convince you. I'll wait as long as you need."

She raised her eyebrows and stifled a grin. "As long as I need? You really are in love, huh?"

"You have no idea," he said softly with that earnest look again.

He leaned down and kissed her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Betty felt the warmth of his hands as he rested them on her waist and longed to feel the sensation of them along her spine and back under her hair again; she didn't know she was so sensitive there until tonight, or maybe she was just sensitive everywhere with Daniel. But he didn't move them. In fact even his kiss, though warm, wasn't insistent or urgent. He pulled back long enough to look her in the eyes and smile gently, brushing his thumb along her lips before his lips were on hers again, still warm and soft.

They kissed several more times, each one meaningful and unhurried, like they were savoring this kind of intimacy with each other but not eager to move beyond it yet.

Finally, he pulled back, rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "It's Friday night and we don't have to go anywhere first thing in the morning…spend the night with me."

"'Says the spider to the fly'. I thought we just talked about this." She was feeling a little confused by the mixed messages. It's not like they were just passionately making out; in fact these kisses were more innocent than the one in the restaurant.

"We did and I'm not pressuring you, at all. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. It's late and dark and cold out. You don't want to go back outside."

"It's not cold, it's August," she said glancing at her watch and then smiling. "And it's not late, it's just after nine-thirty." His excuses were amusing.

"Okay, but I got one right; it _is_ dark," he grinned.

"That it is," she admitted grinning herself.

"Besides, you've got vampires in your building. I wouldn't feel right sending you home to them after dark," he added, making Betty laugh. "Honestly, I just don't want you to go. Stay, and we'll only sleep, I promise."

He took her hand and gently caressed her fingers; she felt the tingles all the way up her arm.

"Only sleep?" she looked at him doubtfully.

"Mostly only sleep." His impish smile made Betty's stomach warm and she felt her resolve slip.

"I don't want to go home either," she admitted softly. "I'm just not sure that staying over is very wise."

"I swear, you can trust me completely."

She sighed softly. "I don't think it's you I don't trust," she admitted.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Really?"

"Stop looking at me like that. I don't want to rush this and I'm not sure I trust myself."

"So I'll make sure we don't get caught up in the moment. I'll have enough self-control for both of us."

"You?" she chuckled as she examined his completely sincere expression.

"What's so funny?"

"You are. You are not exactly a pillar of self-control, particularly where it involves sex," she said, looking at him pointedly.

"But this is different. It's important to you, so it's important to me. And I don't want to rush things and mess this up either." He looked so sweet and convincing; he was absolutely right, he could be very persuasive.

"Okay," she answered tentatively.

"Okay? So…you'll stay?"

She nodded and his face lit up. He looked so thrilled she couldn't help but giggle softly.

"Okay, so I'm staying, but we need to take this seriously. I have so many things confusing me right now; I don't need us moving too quickly causing more confusion."

"So many things?"

"Yeah, you know, because of Vincent's offer," she explained.

He sat back and looked confused. "You're not still seriously considering that?"

"I don't know about 'seriously' but I have to think about it a little. It's an amazing opportunity."

He looked perplexed. "But what about us?"

"Us?" she questioned.

It popped out of her mouth automatically, without any thought behind it and by the way his eyes seemed to cloud over, he'd been hurt by her confusion. Her brain was only beginning to process that everything was becoming a little more complicated.

"Yes, Betty…us. Whatever this is," he gestured between them.

"I don't know. I guess I haven't really thought much about it. I mean this is all so new; we hadn't even been on a date until tonight." She was just trying to explain her confusion but it was the wrong thing to say and she realized it the minute it crossed her lips.

Now he looked incredibly hurt. "God Betty, do you think this is a whim? I'm in love with you. I thought, after this morning…" He didn't finish his sentence.

"What? You thought what?" she prodded, immediately upset and anxious at the direction this conversation was heading. She hated the pained look on his face and she hated, even more, that she had caused it.

"I thought you felt the same way," he answered softly looking away.

She took his hand. "I do. I love you, Daniel." He turned back to look at her and she saw such intensity in his eyes.

This sweet, endearing part of him, the part that caused him to throw himself wholeheartedly, unabashedly into love when he finally allowed himself to - the same part that by all rights he should have closed off completely after that horrible incident with Sophia and his grief over Molly - was staring her in the face and it was wonderfully amazing and utterly terrifying at the same time, especially when all of this was so new and you were the object of it.

Sure, she loved him but what exactly did that mean for everything else? Did that mean she was supposed to automatically turn down Vincent's offer? It seemed crazy to impulsively slam career doors closed because of an admission of their feelings they'd only just made this morning.

"I thought running a magazine was your dream."

"It is."

"Then what's the issue? Why would you consider traipsing around the world with your ex-boyfriend?"

"Is that what the problem is? Because Vincent and I weren't really serious, at all."

"You weren't?"

She shook her head. "No. We just hung out, mostly as friends. He's a really super guy. He's funny, and smart, and swee—"

"Yeah, yeah, he's a great guy," Daniel interrupted. He obviously didn't want to hear about Vincent's virtues. But apparently he was curious about something else. "You didn't…uh…sleep together?"

"No. We barely even made out."

"Oh." He seemed extremely relieved and then puzzled. "What does 'barely' mean?"

"Daniel!" She tilted her head to the side and looked at him with disbelief. He didn't seriously want details did he?

"Right, you're right. I probably don't want to know anyway." He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"Look, I probably won't take Vincent up on his offer but I owe it to myself to at least consider it. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Not really," he replied softly, the pain was still evident in his eyes.

At least he was honest and not angry, that was something.

"You can pretend to understand that can't you?" she said to try to lighten up the mood. She noticed a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. He seemed to be coming around so she leaned against him and he put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I don't want this conversation to ruin our evening."

He sighed and rubbed his free hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck for a second. "I don't either, so let's not let it."

"So we're not upset anymore?" she ventured hopefully.

"I'm pretending not to be upset, just like I'm pretending to understand," he smiled softly but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

She turned slightly so she could wrap her arms around his torso. She felt a wave of gratitude about the way he was trying to push past this and not react emotionally. "I do love you. I need you to know that." She reached up to kiss his cheek.

He nodded slowly. She knew they'd just swept it under the rug for tonight but at that moment she didn't care. It's not like it was likely she'd even take the position.

"Hey, that was pretty good, you know? That had potential to blow up into something big but we diffused it calmly, and fairly quickly. That shows lots of maturity I think," she grinned. And then she asked nervously. "Am I…uh…still invited to stay over?"

He smiled bigger now. "Definitely. I need to remind you what you'll be missing if you take off for world travel without me for a year." He leaned down and kissed her so fiercely that she went a little weak. Shades of that steamy restaurant kiss were showing. She was glad she was already sitting down.

"We're still going to take this slow, right?" she asked once he'd pulled back from it

"Well, I _probably_ won't seduce you tonight, but I owe it to myself to at least consider it. You can understand that, can't you?" he mocked her a little with a glint in his eyes.

"Shut up," she gave him a light shove.

* * *

><p>Daniel was desperately trying not to mope. He'd swallowed whatever hurt pride he'd felt during the course of that conversation because tonight had been going so well that he didn't want to spoil it with a stupid argument. But he had been hurt. Her utter confusion about what "us" had to do with a huge decision like this cut pretty deep, especially now.<p>

Of course, after how completely unsupportive he'd been about her getting this job in London there was no way he was going to make that same mistake twice. He needed to be patient and at least allow her to think through it. He just didn't understand how, after this morning, Vincent's offer was even still on the table.

The way she had looked at him though, and the way she had kissed him, he just wanted to forget about it for tonight. She was willing to stay and every moment they were together would make it harder for her to consider leaving.

It didn't sound like she would really leave, but there was this nagging doubt. God, if she left, would he wait for an entire year? He felt the tiniest ray of hope; maybe this job would involve short stints of a couple of months at a time, and she'd come home between them. It wasn't ideal, but maybe they could make that work. But where would her home be? And would she even consider him part of that?

He wanted to ask her but he didn't want it to spiral into an argument and he didn't want to seem pushy or smothering. It was agonizing to think maybe he was far more invested in this than she was.

Then again, she had told him she loved him. Betty wouldn't use those words lightly and she certainly wouldn't say it if she didn't mean it. He wasn't going to be an idiot because he was being insecure or fearful of losing her.

No, definitely not. Tonight was going to be about tonight, nothing else.


	15. Sleepover

**Disclaimer:**_ In the next few chapters we're getting to the reason I wanted Daniel to go and rescue ModeUK in the first place. Please forgive any inaccurate information if you are familiar with the magazine industry. I'm just writing for fun._

_I hope you are enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying the writing. The plot bunnies went crazy over the holidays so I have several parts of future chapters written I just need to sort them out and piece them together. Hopefully the next update won't be as long coming as this one was. _

_It's been a long time since I last posted and really, this is supposed to be taking place the same evening as the previous chapter so I feel it's almost necessary to do a recap, especially for those of you, like me, who read almost everything Detty and can't keep one story straight from another. So here goes…_

_**Previously on Lovers and Madmen:** _

_After climbing her fire escape, Daniel admitted his feelings to a very surprised Betty who felt the same way, catapulting them into a steamy make-out session on the couch that ended abruptly with a tumble to the floor. After a brief nap they woke up and decided to go on an official date which ended back at Daniel's hotel where an apprehensive Betty told him that she wasn't ready to sleep with him. He was fine with it but asked her to spend the night anyway, promising he'd make sure they didn't get carried away. Everything was wonderful until the dreaded mention of her opportunity to work on the book with Vincent . There were a couple of tense moments, quickly diffused when they both agreed not to mention it for the rest of the evening. So now, on with our story…_

* * *

><p>They spent the next couple of hours snuggled on the couch, Daniel's arm around her as she was pressed up against his side. His shoeless feet were up on the coffee table and he was slouched in to the corner of the sofa. His suit jacket and tie had been discarded when he'd gotten up to get Betty a drink earlier. Betty's arm was splayed across his abdomen and she occasionally fiddled mindlessly with the seam of his dress shirt as they spoke. Her tiny legs were curled up behind her and her heels long abandoned. Their long conversation was broken by the occasional sharp laugh when one of them said something particularly amusing and punctuated quite a bit more frequently by a tender kiss or two but nothing that heated up too much. For Daniel's part it was simply because he wanted her to know that he'd meant it when he said she could trust him in this.<p>

The issue of Vincent's proposal had been completely dropped and even Daniel was starting to feel better. Instead they spoke about family - mainly Tyler and what it was like realizing you had a half-brother you never knew about, how weird it was for Betty that Hilda was married and in her own place, and how worried she was about her father all on his own in Queens. But they also spoke about work and ideas for upcoming issues. Daniel loved the way her eyes lit up when she was talking about something that particularly excited her, and she had some of the best ideas too.

Eventually, when the conversation lulled and Betty looked particularly sleepy, Daniel found a t-shirt and a pair of shorts she could sleep in. They were huge on her, the dark blue t-shirt hanging down almost to her knees with a trace amount of the grey cotton shorts hanging just below that but Daniel thought they just made her look more adorable than ever.

"I, uh, thought we could move the conversation into the bedroom," he said when she reappeared from the washroom.

"Oh." She paused and there was a dawning realization across her face. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa?" she questioned, her eyes widening a little and a very obvious attempt not to panic was written all over her.

He looked at her stunned, trying to keep the intense disappointment at bay. Well, this was awkward. That wasn't exactly what he'd pictured when he'd invited her to stay. Not that he was hoping for more than just cuddling after they'd had their talk, but didn't she at least want that? The couch, she wanted to sleep on the couch when there was a gigantic king size bed, and him, in the next room?

"Uh…well, I guess if…you…really want to." His statement was extremely stilted because he hated that he was having to say it at all.

A gigantic smile broke out across her face and she started laughing. "I can't believe you were going to make up the sofa bed for me. You should see your face."

The realization she was teasing him brought such sweet relief he almost laughed. But a quick look at her mischievous, self-satisfied face and he knew she definitely deserved some retribution for it.

"Oh, you are so going to get it," he threatened as he snatched for her but she dodged him, ducking herself around to the other side of the sofa.

"Wow, and all this time I could have sworn that 'gentleman' was the one word your dates would not have used to describe you," she teased with a smug expression, her hands braced on the back of the sofa.

He reached across it but she stepped back quickly.

"You missed," she taunted good-naturedly.

He deked one way so she went the other, then he quickly changed directions to try and snag her at the end of the sofa but she realized his intent and took off in a little sprint to the other side of the arm chair.

"It's only a matter of time before I catch you, you know." he warned playfully, as he made his way over to the arm chair.

"Oh yeah? I think you're forgetting I have a big sister. I'm not new to this," she reminded him.

He quickly faked to the left and then pounced to the right, snatched a piece of the oversized t-shirt but not enough and it slipped through his fingers. Betty squealed and then laughed and took off running toward the bedroom and he took off after her. She looked back for one split second to see if he was right behind her, unfortunately it was just long enough that she miscalculated how close the French doors were and she ran straight into the one that was closed, smacking the side of her forehead.

She looked stunned for a second and then slumped down to the floor.

"Betty! Are you alright?" He ran up behind her, crouching on the floor beside her to check her head.

She nodded slowly. There was no blood but a big red welt that was obviously going to bruise.

"I'll get you some ice." He ran back to the wet bar grabbed a towel and stuck some ice in it before hurrying back to Betty so he could put it on her head.

She started chuckling when he approached. "That wasn't very smooth, was it?" she said with a little chagrin.

"About as smooth as falling off the couch during a steamy make out session," he smiled. "We're not starting with a very good track record. I'm just glad you're not too hurt."

"I'm not," she assured him. "Just my pride."

He gave her the ice to put on her head and helped her up into the bedroom and onto the bed.

"I don't need to wake you every hour to make sure you're not dead or anything, do I?" he teased, sitting down beside her.

"I'm pretty sure it's not a concussion," she smiled, removing the ice. "How does it look?"

"Well, you'll probably have a bruise. It's starting to look better already though. The ice is helping. By the way, I think I won that little chase," he smiled softly.

She chuckled again. "It's a good thing you don't love me for my agility."

"I definitely didn't fall in love with you because of your agility," he agreed wholeheartedly remembering the day he first met her when she'd walked into the glass door.

She swatted him lightly and he chuckled. Slowly their smiles waned and their eyes locked. Her face was still slightly flushed from the chase and the laughter, and she was looking at him exactly the same way she had this morning, right before their heavy make out session on the couch. Daniel's heart rate increased as he remembered it, along with his desire. He lifted his hand up to her cheek, slowly grazing his thumb along her cheekbone. Her skin was warm and soft beneath the pad of his thumb and he felt this irresistible compulsion to kiss her. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers gently. He intended to keep it chaste but, man, she was so right, he was really bad at self control when it came to this. Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd deepened it and she'd welcomed it, and the urgency inside that he'd been able to evade all evening was building rapidly. She dropped the towel with the ice and wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers sliding in and caressing the hairs at the back of his head. Large alarm bells - sirens actually – were going off, but in that moment he didn't care he just wanted the moment.

She started shimmying up onto the bed, tugging him with her, not even allowing a break in the kiss, or even the intensity of it. She leaned back into the pillows, releasing her hands from his around his neck and instead, snaking them around behind his back so she could pull him down on top of her. His longing was increasing exponentially but suddenly now, so was this other element – his conscience or something – reminding him that he was the one that said she could trust him, that he'd make sure they didn't get carried away. He tried to ignore it.

He kissed her neck and then he rolled over and pulled her on top. His hands roamed down her sides, her curves soft and delicate beneath his fingers. She emitted a sound halfway between a gasp and a moan and Daniel pulled her face in for another steamy kiss. She bent down and undid his shirt buttons, pulling his shirt open and kissing his chest with the same intensity he'd felt from her this morning, her silky hair brushing softly along his skin as she moved. And she moved deliberately, determined, from his chest up his neck, impatiently grasping his earlobe gently between her teeth before she returned to his lips. That's when he heard his stupid conscience again only this time it was louder and more insistent, and going for the jugular, telling him he didn't deserve someone who trusted him so much if this was how he was going to repay that trust. He groaned, a mix of longing and frustration.

"Betty…" he managed to breathe out softly, completely torn between caving in and keeping his word.

"I know," she pushed herself off of him and lay back on the pillows. "I'm sorry. See, I told you, I'm an animal," she said softly.

He took a deep breath to try and compose himself and then he rolled on his side and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at her, resting his head on his hand. She looked so concerned, regretful, her forehead creased with worry.

"Okay, first, don't apologize because that wasn't you - I started it. And second, wow, animal instincts are not a bad thing…at all. It's just right now, if we're trying to take this slow, they are a subtle form of torture."

"Can I be honest?" she asked softly.

"Absolutely." He wasn't sure what was coming but he knew honesty was a good thing.

"My head wants to wait but the rest of me doesn't," she admitted shyly.

"I was getting that impression. So,um…do we have to listen to your head? Because I have to admit, I'm siding a little with the rest of you?"

She laughed sincerely and then added sarcastically, "I'm so glad you're the one with the self-control."

"Hey, I stopped us didn't I?"

She nodded, looking a little embarrassed and then pushed herself up into a sitting position so she was leaning against the headboard.

There was a slight awkward pause in the conversation before he added. "Seriously, though…why are we waiting?"

She looked at him sideways like she was trying to assess whether or not he was just kidding.

He sat up now too. "I'm not joking. I get that you want to, and I respect that, it's just that I haven't waited for sex since, um…well, ever actually. It might help in situations like this if I knew why you want to."

She fiddled with her hands shyly. "Because sex changes the dynamic of a relationship and I'm still trying to get used to our relationship changing as much as it already has. Plus, it intensifies the emotions between people, and right now I'm already a little overwhelmed the intensity of my feelings for you," she admitted quietly.

Daniel felt his throat tighten slightly with emotion. If there was any good reason for waiting, that had to be it. Her honesty and vulnerability with him made his heart ache and swell in equal amounts. He put his free hand over one of hers.

"Besides, I'm not like you, Daniel; it's not casual to me."

"Hey, it's not casual to me either." He gently slipped his finger under her chin so he could tilt her face toward him and look into his eyes.

She raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"Well, okay, it has been casual in the past but this, with us, isn't."

She nodded.

"I get it, really – changing dynamics, intense emotions. I've had a bit more time to think about this than you have too, I suppose," he said thoughtfully.

"That's what I mean. I need some time to process it. I mean, I only found out this morning how you felt. I just need some time for my head to catch up with…um, the rest of us."

He nodded. "Look Betty, I meant what I said; I'll wait as long as you need. There is absolutely no pressure from me, at all."

She smiled and nodded.

"I'll get the lights out there," he gestured to the living area and got up to go turn them off.

"Hey…" she called to him as he was almost out the French doors and he turned around.

She was holding up the towel full of ice. "Don't forget this or we'll be sleeping in a cold wet puddle."

He came back and grabbed the towel from her.

When he got back into the room Betty looked at him curiously. "Do you even own pajamas?"

He grinned. "I think I have one pair of pajama pants I got for Christmas last year and they haven't ever been worn."

"You were going to wear them tonight, right?" she confirmed with a look of trepidation.

"Betty, you wound me. We just had this conversation and I promised to be good." he feigned offense.

"I know, it's just that I'm not completely sure what your definition of 'good' is," she smirked.

"Well in this particular instance I mean well behaved but I could definitely demonstrate the other definition for you if you've changed your mind," he replied mischievously.

"I haven't," she assured him. "Not tonight, anyway."

He chuckled and grabbed the pants and a t-shirt and headed into the bathroom to change. He came back out a few minutes later and crawled into the bed. She snuggled up against him with her head on his chest and his arm around her.

"Here, let me take those," he pointed to her glasses and she took them off so he could put them on the nightstand before he flicked off the light. It was dark but he'd left the curtains open a little so the light from the street lights and other buildings cast enough light that he could still see her face.

"Thanks for tonight. It was really fun," she said lifting her head up slightly so she could see him.

"I had fun too."

She put her head back down on his chest and then suddenly she gasped. "I just realized that I'm sleeping with a guy because he bought me dinner," she said, her voice full of amusement.

"Hopefully it's not _just_ because I bought you dinner."

"No, of course not," she waited a beat before adding, "there were those Cirque du Soleil tickets too." She chuckled and Daniel chuckled too.

"What am I going to do with you?" he shook his head softly.

"Give me a little time for my head to catch up and then I'll give you some suggestions," she flirted shamelessly and he chuckled again.

Suddenly, she slid off of his chest onto the pillow on her side so she could see him better. "When did you know?"

"About what?" He rolled onto his side so he could face her.

"When did you know that you loved me? I mean, let's face it, I know you haven't always felt this way."

He was thoughtful as he considered it. "I think right before your launch party I had the final realization. I mean, I knew I was feeling something even before you left New York, that was part of the reason I couldn't say good-bye, but I couldn't really define it. There were lots of weird, confusing emotions in the weeks leading up to your resignation."

"Since I got my braces off," she said it matter-of-factly but he knew it wasn't true.

"No," he shook his head. "It wasn't that. I mean, sure, your smile was just that much more amazing without them but…" he exhaled trying to understand it himself because he hadn't really taken the time to analyze it. "God, I can't even really pin point when it started. That un-invite to Hilda's wedding hurt more than it should have. And I despised the thought of Henry worming his way back into your life. So I know for sure something was happening then. But after you told me you were leaving Mode I felt this sadness and emptiness that was far more intense than I should feel for a friend leaving. It was like all the colour had been sucked out of everything and I was living in black and white."

"In black and white?" she smiled softly.

"Yeah, I know, pathetic and cheesy. I just don't know how else to describe it."

"I love when you're cheesy," she admitted quietly, bringing her hand up to his temple.

"Even then I wasn't exactly sure what I was feeling. But after we made up, I always looked forward to our Skype sessions like they were the highlights of my week. And then, when I came for the launch party with your family and you threw your arms around me at the airport, I didn't ever want to let you go and I just knew. I wanted to tell you that weekend but it just never worked out."

"I'm glad it didn't," she admitted.

"Really?" That seemed like an odd thing to say.

She grabbed his hand started playing with his fingers lightly.

"I'm not sure how I would have reacted to such a big admission from you, especially then with everything going on here with the launch and you living so far away. I'm not sure I was ready to hear it then. I think it might have made things awkward. And if things were awkward you never would have come to London, right?"

He shrugged. "I certainly wouldn't have jumped at the chance like I did. When did you know?" He shot the question back at her.

"When you told me _you _did. I thought I told you that this morning at my apartment."

"I didn't get half of what you said in your babbling, incoherent state this morning," he joked. "Just the most important part."

"Honestly, I think your confession just made me examine the way I'd been feeling lately. Justin said I had a crush on you so that's why I was avoiding you when he was here."

"That's what that was all about?"

She nodded. "Actually, now that I think about it, he said you had a crush on me too but I didn't believe him."

"Smart kid."

"He really is," she said with a little awe. "It wasn't a crush though. I know that now. I've been denying these feelings for a while."

"Oh yeah? For how long?"

"Maybe since you were the best, most encouraging friend ever as I got ready to launch my own magazine. I mean, you've always been supportive of my writing and my career, but these past couple of months...wow. You listened for _hours_ while I talked through stuff. You gave me your honest opinions and advice. Mostly, you just seemed to know what I needed to hear when I was freaking out. And somehow you knew, you _knew_ even when I didn't, that I needed my family here for the launch."

He reached up and kissed her forehead and then she tilted her face up so their lips could meet. They kissed softly, and then pulled back to look at each other again.

This thing they had - this honesty and this ability to be completely themselves, without pretense – was amazing, and not something Daniel was used to with most people. He'd spent almost all of his life projecting facades, images, of what he wanted people to see. Betty had never fallen for it, except for maybe that first week he'd known her and been a complete ass to her. But there was always something about her - her guilelessness or something - that made him feel like he could be himself with her. And she was always somehow able to see what no one else could – not just who he really was, but who he could be. She'd always had such faith in him, more faith than he even had in himself. Even now, as she looked at him with those deep brown eyes, so full of confidence and that smile that made his heart so full it wanted to burst, and those lips…

Daniel felt overwhelmed with emotion. "You are so beautiful Betty."

"Daniel…" She had that tone she often used when she didn't want his empty placating.

Her tone and expression brought with it a vague recollection of a conversation he'd had with her once. _"I should have known that when he said I was beautiful, he meant on the inside." _His chest tightened at the memory.

He kissed her again, more soundly that time.

"You are," he insisted firmly. "Both inside and out. And I'm an expert on beauty. I run a fashion magazine, did I tell you?"

"I think I heard that somewhere," she smiled, and he leaned in for another kiss.

They lay like that for the longest time – alternating between lazy, languid kisses, hushed whispers and muted chuckles - until their lips were swollen and eyelids droopy. The part of Daniel that longed to pull her closer and lose himself in her curves and softness like he had earlier was overruled by the other part that thought getting to know Betty like this was incredibly amazing in its own right and he didn't want to rush past it.

"I'm so tired," she finally whispered.

"Then we should go to sleep," he suggested and she nodded.

"I'm really glad I stayed," she said softly.

"Me too."

Her eyes were already closed. He pulled her close and she nestled her face into his neck.

"Do you honestly think we can sleep like this all night?" she mumbled into his neck with a little doubt.

"I sure hope so," he sighed, and he felt her smile. "Just don't suffocate."

"I'll try not to. Goodnight Daniel."

"Goodnight Betty," he whispered.

They hadn't stayed like that all night. At some point they had separated and when Daniel woke up in the wee hours of the morning – while it was still dark outside - she was way too far away. He sidled over to her side of the bed and snuggled up behind her, wrapping his arm over her waist, and gently pulling her back up against him. She stirred a little and made the gentlest noise of complaint. He brushed some of her long, dark, hair aside and kissed the side of her neck, inhaling the light scent of her fading perfume. There was this feeling of utter contentment, as if all of life was made for simple moments like this. How did he ever think anything less than this was even remotely satisfying? He almost chuckled at the irony. Satisfying. Since when was he satisfied with just cuddling? Didn't he used to hate cuddling? He smiled against her neck and then nuzzled it down near her shoulder, eliciting another soft moan. God, he already loved those little noises and they sent his imagination swirling, almost tempting him to wake her and break that stupid promise he'd made earlier. But he didn't. Betty had only stayed because she knew she could count on him. He wasn't going to be an idiot. He could be patient, they had lots of time. Unless…

For one split second he allowed stupid thoughts of last night's conversation to invade his brain and a moment of panic seized him. He berated himself for going there. Now was not the time. He'd promised himself that tonight was all about tonight and nothing else. Besides, why would she leave a fantastic opportunity like running Londonesque? No, Betty wasn't going anywhere; he was almost convinced of it.

Allowing himself to relax again, he fell back to sleep. He had no idea how much time had past when he awoke again, but when he did, Betty was lying on her back looking at him.

"Good morning," she whispered sleepily, looking like she too had just woken up.

"Good morning. Have you been awake long?" He lifted his head off of the pillow so he could look at the clock behind her. It was just before eight o'clock.

She shook her head. "I just woke up."

"Did you sleep okay?"

She smiled and stretched a little. "I did, except for this guy who kept trying to snuggle."

"I hate those guys," he grinned.

"How's my forehead?" she asked, pulling her hair aside so he could see the spot where she'd run into the door.

"Barely even a bruise," Daniel admitted with a little surprise.

"Oh, thank goodness. I would hate to have to explain that one," she grinned.

Her hair was a tousled mess and her eyes squinty - either from still being half asleep or from trying to focus without her glasses on - but her face was fresh and sweet and her lips full and inviting…so inviting.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, a puzzled expression forming on her face.

"You seem to have issues with all of my looks lately," he stated with mild amusement.

"That's because none of them are normal lately."

"They are all normal and I've been using them for years," he argued.

"How come I don't recognize them then?"

"Maybe you weren't paying attention," he suggested.

"I'm always paying attention. Haven't you learned that by now?" she grinned. "No, that's one of _those_ looks."

"One of what looks'?" he asked her, amused.

"You know, part of your voodoo," she smirked, teasing him.

"That voodoo you are too smart for?"

"Yeah."

"And yet, here you are in my bed," he teased back with a big grin.

She smacked him on the shoulder. "So I suppose that's your 'come hither' look then, is it?"

"No this is my 'come hither' look…" He exaggerated the face Betty had once referred to as his "fishy face" and Betty cracked up.

He instantly warmed at the sound of her laugh.

She shook her head at him. "You are such a dork. So if that's not your 'come hither' look then what exactly is it?"

"That's my I-want-you-desperately look." He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Ah yes, you've certainly made good use of that one over the years then," she teased.

"I don't think I've ever meant as much as right now though," he said softly, sincerely.

She looked down shyly, her face reddening again but quickly diffused it. "I'm sorry my morning breath, bed head and pillow face are so enchanting to you. It's a good thing you didn't catch me drooling or I wouldn't be able to keep you off of me."

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. "Wow, morning drool. You're absolutely right, that would have been way too much for me and my self-control," he joked, nuzzling her neck.

"Stop it, that tickles." She giggled and squirmed. "You need a shave, and I need to get up," she said pulling away from him.

"No you don't." He yanked her back against him.

"Yes, I really do," she insisted freeing herself from his grasp. "I'll be back, I promise."

* * *

><p>As soon as Betty returned, Daniel decided he needed to use the washroom so he got up. She climbed back into the bed and sat up hugging her knees. She knew she had the biggest, goofiest grin but she also knew she wasn't going to be able to wipe it off of her face. Last night was amazing. She was falling hard and fast and although a small part of her was terrified because it was Daniel and they were such good friends, that was exactly what made it so wonderful.<p>

She was pulled away from her thoughts by his phone ringing. She picked it up and carried it to the bathroom door just as it rang again.

"Daniel, it's your Mom," she said to the door, looking at the display.

"I'll be out in a second, just answer it," he said as she heard the water in the sink running.

"No!" she said with a little panic.

"No?" he pulled the door open a second later and met her panicked expression with a bemused smile. "It's just my Mom. You guys talk all the time," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but not on _your_ phone at eight o'clock in the morning," she whispered and handed the phone to him as it rang one more time.

He looked around from side to side, puzzled, as if he was trying to figure out why she was whispering. "What's wron—" A light bulb went off; Betty swore she could almost see it. "I get it; you're worried my Mom will know you stayed over."

"A little," she confessed. By now the phone had stopped ringing. "I guess it doesn't matter much now. She seems to have hung up."

"She'll call back in a few minutes." He stepped past her and out into the bedroom.

"How do you know that?"

"She always does." He sat back down on the bed.

"Why is she calling you this early anyway? It's three in the morning in New York."

"Actually, I think she's in France with Alexis. She was coming sometime this week." He got back to the point. "You know Betty, you don't need to worry about my Mom."

She knew that and a part of her didn't care. But it was that other part she was currently listening to; the part that desperately didn't ever want to be placed in the same category as countless other women Daniel had slept with. Not that she really thought Mrs. Meade would do that, but even still, just the idea of anyone thinking she'd impulsively jumped into bed with him made her uncomfortable. Of course she needed to tread lightly here or she'd certainly end up offending him.

"Daniel, you've only been in London for two weeks."

"Three," he corrected her.

"Okay, sorry, three weeks, two of those I was dating Vincent and the other one, I was in New York. It just seems fast for me to be staying over especially since no one even knows we're seeing each other."

"Is that what we're doing, 'seeing each other'?" He looked amused and a little curious.

"Well, whatever it is we're doing." Defining it suddenly seemed really weird and the term "seeing each other" a little presumptuous.

He looked like he was considering something. "So you were 'dating' Vincent but you're 'seeing' me? Which has the higher status?" he wondered.

"That's not the point at the moment. The point is—"

"The point is you move really fast - dating Vincent one moment, seeing me the next…even staying over!" He gasped and then added with mock seriousness. "Betty Suarez, you are such a little floozy."

"Okay, could you stop with the teasing? I'm serious." She crossed her arms in front of her.

"I know, that's why I'm teasing you."

She tried again, calmly. "_I_ haven't even wrapped my head around the idea of us sleeping together; I'm not ready for your Mom to be assuming we did."

"We did sleep together," he corrected her again, stifling a smirk.

"Funny." She said sarcastically. "I'm trying to have a serious discussion about this." She was getting slightly annoyed.

"Fine." He was still stifling his smirk.

"My point is, she'll get completely the wrong idea."

"I kind of think she'd get the right idea; it was us who had the wrong one. I mean, seriously, _sleeping_ all night, what were we thinking?" He wasn't stifling the smirk anymore at all.

She shoved his shoulder but couldn't help smiling at his quip. She shook her head. He was completely infuriating sometimes but even so, he was funny. Just then the phone rang again and he answered it.

"Hey Mom." He paused briefly and stood up. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was in the washroom and Betty was afraid to answer my phone because she thought it was a dead give away that she'd slept over." He grinned mischievously at her as he dodged her wide-eyed swat and walk away quickly out to the living area to avoid any other harmful consequences.

She'd already cleaned up and changed by the time he came back in.

"I can't believe you did that." She looked at him still a little stunned.

"Relax Betty, my Mom is probably thrilled. In fact, she said, 'I'm glad you two finally got your heads out of your tushes, I was starting to think it would never happen' or something to that effect. And then she threatened that I better not screw this up or she'd disown me."

"She did not." Betty looked at him skeptically.

He pulled her close to him. "She did, honest. Well, okay, I made up the disowning part but the rest is true. That surprises you? She loves you. She was wishing this would have happened months ago."

She suddenly remembered something and some of the pieces started to fit. "Hmm…you know, at my going away party she was planting little ideas in my head that you might have feelings for me."

"What!" His mouth dropped open and he sounded upset. "I knew she could meddle sometimes but I didn't think she'd ever—"

"Hey," She put her hand on his face to soothe him. "It all worked out okay, right? Don't be upset with her. She loves you; she just wants you to be happy. Besides, if it wasn't for your mother's meddling, you'd be encamped, penniless in some Community of the Phoenix commune, eating raw food and sporting those stupid beads and a shaved head or something," she reminded him keeping it light. She did not want to think about the other potential consequence had they not barged in on his session with Natalie and Bennett.

He looked at her with a little chagrin. "I thought your meddling had something to do with that."

"Yeah, well, it was kind of a joint effort."

He softened. "I guess you're right."

She smiled sweetly. "I usually am."

"Yes, you are." He smiled back.

"So your Mom is in France? Does that mean I'll get to see her?" Betty asked hopefully, thinking it wouldn't be too far for Claire to come London. She really missed her.

"Probably. I'm pretty sure she wants to help me with my new place if I get one before she goes back. She said something about any place I get needing her to make sure it doesn't look like it was decorated by an adolescent." He rolled his eyes.

Betty laughed a little first and then she clapped her hands together lightly in front of her a couple of times in excitement. "Yay! I can't wait to see her."

Daniel grinned warmly, his eyes looked so blue this morning and his face so scruffy with the stubble she'd rarely seen on him.

"So what should we do today?" She smiled broadly, feeling a huge wave of affection for him.

He bent down, buried his face in her hair and groaned softly with frustration.

"What's wrong?" she asked, feeling concerned about his reaction.

"I would love to spend the day with you but actually, I have to work," he said apologetically.

"You do? I thought you said last night that I should stay over because it was Friday and we didn't have to work today."

He sighed. "I said no one had to be anywhere early in the morning, which is true. But I have to meet with Paul, the new accountant, this afternoon."

She sighed too. "Slave driver. The man just started and you have him working weekends already? Well, I might as well work this afternoon too then, I guess. Who knew you'd be the workaholic in this relationship?"

The grin spread across his face until it was utterly goofy looking.

"What?" She looked at him puzzled.

"Relationship?" he inquired with a little lilt to the word.

"Did I say that?" she feigned ignorance, her face warming slightly.

It felt like all she did was blush around him lately. Stupid slip. It's not like she'd inadvertently proposed or anything but even still, they hadn't really talked about what this was between them. And even though this was Daniel and they'd admitted they loved each other and he looked at her the way he did when he was throwing himself all in, she didn't want him to think she was making huge assumptions. She held her breath a little.

"You definitely said the 'R' word," he assured her with a delighted nod.

"I guess it sounded presumptuous, but I didn't mean it like, uh, well, I didn't mean to presume…" she faded off, her face warmer than ever and he chuckled.

"It's okay Betty."

"It is?" She looked up into his eyes trying to assess him and allowed herself to breathe a little again when she didn't notice any tension. "So, um, are we going to talk about what this is?" she asked awkwardly.

"Define it, you mean."

"I suppose that's what I mean."

"Well, you told me you loved me, you spent the night and we were talking about sex as it pertains to us. I think I know you well enough to know that you're not doing that unless you consider this a relationship."

"All of that is true, but I wasn't asking what you thought _my_ opinion of it was," she said bluntly, unsure of where her boldness had come from.

He grinned at her smart response. "Is this where I'm supposed to ask you to go steady?"

"If we were in high school, dork. Quit evading the question."

"I'm not evading the question. Betty, I've been in love with you for months. I considered us in a relationship the moment you told me you loved me."

"Really?"

He looked at her, puzzled. "Of course. Why do you think I was so hurt last night when you barely considered us as a reason for not accepting Vincent's offer?"

"I'm sorry. I never meant that to hurt you. It's just, everything is complicated all of a sudden." She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hand across the top of the silky, cream coloured duvet. "All of this is so confusing. It's like we've gone from nothing to something pretty intense in twenty-four hours."

She looked up at him to see if he understood, but now he looked confused and she saw some trepidation in his eyes. "And you don't want that?" He sat down on the bed beside her.

She smiled softly. "I do. I mean, I love you and so of course I want this but it's just not the way relationships normally happen. Normally you get a chance to process each stage as it's happening – the first date, getting to know each other, realizing you're in love and then getting more serious. We've done everything in such a weird order that it feels like we've skipped steps and like everything is happening so fast."

He smiled now. "Maybe in some ways it feels fast, but in others it doesn't. I mean, the getting to know you stage was pretty long and substantial. Longer and more in depth than most people get before they get serious."

"That's very true," she nodded thoughtfully and then added cautiously, "So, uh, I guess jumping into whatever this is, at high intensity, doesn't bother you?

"Not at all. I love you Betty. I'm not interested in seeing other people or even just hanging out with you. I think what we already have is amazing and I want to work on building something even better. But I get that maybe you're not in exactly the same headspace as I am and there are so many reasons why that might be the case." He looked so vulnerable it made Betty's heart clench.

"I'm not interested in seeing other people or hanging out with you either," she said softly, taking his hand before she realized how it sounded. "Uh, I mean, just hanging out with you," she corrected herself.

He smiled gently. "I knew what you meant. So, uh, it kind of sounds like we've decided to give this relationship thing a shot," he said hesitantly.

"It kind of sounds like it." she looked up at him.

"So does that mean I can I see you tonight?" he asked hopefully.

"Two nights in a row? This is getting serious," she grinned.

"Serious enough that you're forgetting all about travelling around the world and writing books and stuff?" he questioned, his eyebrows raised in hope.

"Daniel, we're not going to get into that again right now, are we?"

"No, I guess not. Let's go have breakfast instead."

She smiled, relieved. "I think that's a much better idea."


	16. Team Who?

When Betty got home after breakfast with Daniel she showered and changed and then flitted some time away until it was a decent hour in New York. She was dying to tell Hilda about Daniel but she knew she'd get an earful from her about waking her too early on a Saturday if she didn't wait long enough.

She didn't wait long into the conversation before she spilled the beans though.

"Oh my God, are you serious? He said he loves you?" Hilda exclaimed when she finally told her.

"Deadly serious," Betty said the smile spreading across her face.

"And how do you feel about him?" she asked cautiously.

"I love him too."

"Oh Betty, I'm so happy for you," Hilda practically gushed.

"I am too Hilda - so happy."

"So when did all of this happen?"

"Just yesterday morning, and we went on a date last night."

"You did! Why didn't you call me last night when you got home?"

"Uh…well, um, actually I didn't come home last night," Betty answered, sticking her thumbnail anxiously between her teeth as she anticipated Hilda's reaction.

"Ooooh my gosh Betty!" Hilda squealed and Betty held the phone away from her ear. "So, tell me, how was it?"

"Well, we didn't actually…you know."

"You didn't?" Hilda sounded surprised and puzzled.

"No. It was only our first date Hilda," Betty explained.

"But you've known him, like, forever."

"I know. But that also means I know stuff…a lot of stuff, almost too much stuff. I just think it's better if we take this slow."

"So you stayed over but nothing happened?"

"Well, we talked, for hours."

"Talked?" Hilda was incredulous. "Betty, you've been doing that for four years."

"But this was different. Gosh Hilda, it was incredible. I just feel so…" she couldn't finish because of the emotion in her throat. She felt stinging behind her eyes and the tears started to well up but she choked them back.

"Aww, Betty. You are sooo in love," Hilda practically sang it.

"In love with who?" Betty heard Justin's voice in the background.

Hilda gasped with delight that she could now share the news with someone. "Just a sec…" She heard the click of a button and then another one and then a frustrated Hilda say to Justin. "Help me out here. How do I put this thing on speaker phone?"

"Uh, the button that says 'speaker' maybe? Let me do it."

One more click of a button and then the clunking of the handset being put down.

"Okay, so who's Aunt Betty in love with?" Justin asked, his voice clear now.

"Ooooh my gosh, you'll never guess who your aunt Betty went out with…and he told her he _loves _her," Hilda voice was extremely animated.

"Daniel?" Justin ventured.

There was dead silence for a second.

"Oh fine, take all the fun out of it." Hilda responded obviously frustrated that she hadn't been able to surprise him. "How did you guess that so easily?"

"Please Mom, it's only sooo obvious. He's been giving her those eyes for months. Plus who else would I guess? I don't know anybody else in London."

Betty chuckled a little and Justin continued.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, Aunt Betty. Just like I knew Sandra would bounce back after she lost that deadbeat of a husband."

"Okaaay, Okaaay, so you knew," Betty raised her hand in surrender even though they couldn't see her.

"I tried to tell you to but you freaked out."

"I didn't freak out."

"Oh, you so freaked out. You didn't talk to him for weeks," Justin reminded her.

"I spoke to him," she defended.

"Yeah, to brush him off and tell him you were too busy to talk to him."

"Okay, so I freaked out a little. But that was because I didn't want him to know I was having feelings for him."

"I knew that too. I am so awesome at this. I think I have a gift."

* * *

><p>Betty met Daniel after his meeting with the accountant and they went to dinner and then a jazz club. And on Sunday they spent the day together. He rented a car and they took a drive in the countryside and saw a castle. He'd even packed a picnic. Or to be more specific, he'd had the hotel kitchen pack it, as evidenced by the perfectly made finger sandwiches with the crust cut off, fresh fruit salad in an insolated dish, bottle of Merlot complete with wine glasses, and monogrammed linen napkins of the hotel all beautifully packaged together in a traditional wicker picnic basket. But whatever, Betty didn't really care who had made it; it was romantic and sweet and hit the spot after their hike through the forest on the castle grounds. She was having the time of her life with him.<p>

Monday was back to work and although Betty loved her job, she realized it kind of paled in comparison to spending time with Daniel. She was able to focus at least, and that was something, so by about lunch she was back into the swing of things and loving every minute of it again.

She didn't see Daniel on Monday night. He had to meet with his real estate agent and look at some flats. Tuesday afternoon he called to announce that he had a new place – a loft somewhere around Kensington Station with a fantastic view of a park or something. He was moving in at the end of the month which was only a week away.

"I can't wait to see it," Betty said excitedly when he told her.

"I can't wait for you to see it either," he replied, his tone incredibly subdued for someone about to venture into a new home.

This was Daniel, and new things often excited him as much as a kid at Christmas - like state of the art headpieces or new office equipment. She'd once seen him light up over a new Armani tie because they finally combined the right shades of blue on it or something silly like that, and his reaction to that office chair that Alexis had bought him had been pretty extreme, so it was odd that his new place wasn't inducing at least the same level of enthusiasm. Briefly, she wondered whether or not he really wanted to stay in London, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. These past couple of days had been so amazing and they were having so much fun together, that couldn't possibly be it…could it?

The other weird thing was that he was avoiding conversations about Mode. Whenever she asked him how work was he'd say it was fine and then immediately switch the topic. He was more than happy to discuss Londonesque or family, anything really, except Mode. The one time she did press a little his mood seemed to darken and he told her he didn't feel like talking about it so she dropped it. She knew he'd gotten the new issue ready on time and it had been sent off to the printers. She also knew he'd been having long meetings with his accountant as they sorted out the messed up finances.

Wednesday they planned to have dinner after work and when Betty called his cell phone at around five he was already back at the hotel which was really odd because of the late hours he'd been putting in.

"Are we still up for dinner?"

"Uh, sure." It wasn't exactly the answer she was expecting or the enthusiasm she was hoping for but it was somewhat affirmative; still, she didn't want to force him.

"Are you sure because you don't really sound up for it?"

"No. I want to see you Betty, really. It's just been a hard day."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not really."

She didn't push. He was in one of _those_ moods and pushing would just aggravate him and make him grumpier. They arranged for Betty to go over to the hotel and then they'd figure out where to go after that.

* * *

><p>Daniel paced in front of his laptop situated on the desk in his hotel suite. He stopped and examined the open spreadsheet on the screen, picked up a printed copy of a different spreadsheet of numbers from a file and examined that, and then put it down again to continue pacing. He exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his neck.<p>

The haunting voice in his head was one he hadn't heard in a long time and although he missed the man, he certainly didn't miss trying to live up to his expectations.

"_You have to have confidence, be able to smell blood in the water. You need to possess a killer instinct."_

What exactly that meant in this particular context he wasn't sure. Mode was in serious trouble, and he needed to decide whether to cut their losses or go all in and try to save it. There were so many things to consider on both sides…so many people to consider as well.

He wondered if it would be completely inappropriate to have a couple of scotches before Betty even got to his hotel.

* * *

><p>Betty arrived at the hotel, the anticipation about the evening building. She smiled warmly at the bellman who opened the door for her and walked through. The lobby was bustling with people and she took it all in. She loved to try and determine which guests were used to this kind of extravagance and which ones were treating themselves to a special occasion like a honeymoon or a significant anniversary.<p>

She made her way to the elevators. Daniel sure didn't seem very happy when she spoke to him on the phone and that worried her a little. Hopefully, whatever it was she could take his mind off of it. She smiled and warmed at the thought of how she might try to take his mind off of it.

She took the long walk down the brightly lit corridor and around the bend to the corner suite that was Daniel's.

"Hey," she grinned brightly when he answered the door.

"Hey," he responded with a feeble smile.

She followed him back inside and discarded her purse on the desk chair, and then she captured his hand from behind to stop him from walking farther and he turned questioningly. She stood on her tiptoes and pulled him down for kiss that lingered for a good while.

Finally she pulled back and smiled at him. He exhaled and smiled a little warmer than his first one. "I needed that."

"Yeah?" She smiled gently, concerned about him.

"Yeah." He looked intently into her eyes and softly ran his hands down her sides causing goose bumps.

She closed her eyes and he leaned in and kissed her again with such meaning, it was as if he was clinging to this like a life raft.

"I love you Betty," he whispered softly, earnestly, as he pulled her into such a tight hug she could hardly breathe.

"I know. I love you too." She was puzzled by his intensity. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you said you had a hard day and now you're acting…intense. I just wondered if there was something you wanted to talk about."

"Not really." He walked over to the sofa and sat down.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Okaaay then, what should we do? Are you ready to go out for dinner?" She walked over and stood beside the sofa he was sitting on.

"Uh, do you mind if we order in? I'm just not in the mood to go out."

She shrugged, "Sure. What are you in the mood to do?" It seemed like he was definitely going to be sullen all evening if she couldn't take his mind off whatever was bothering him.

He shrugged and she sat down beside him.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

He shrugged again so she snuggled up against him, wrapping her arms around him, and she felt him relax a little.

"You know, I'm here to talk to if you want to share what's bothering you." She turned her face up to look at him.

"I know."

"I'm a pretty good listener," she said, as if he wouldn't know that already.

He chuckled softly. "I know that too."

"Come on Daniel, I can't stand to see you like this. At least tell me what's bugging you. Have the meetings with the accountant been that bad?"

"Yeah."

He paused for a long time. So long, in fact, that Betty thought he wasn't going to say anything else about it but she just remained quiet hoping her presence was at least somewhat reassuring.

Finally, when she was just about to suggest something for dinner he spoke up again. "I'm not sure I can save Mode."

"Oh." She wasn't sure she could offer anything particularly hopeful or inspiring to that, as much as she might want to, so she just added, "I'm sorry."

He gave her a light squeeze. "Thanks."

"Are you sure? I mean, is it impossible?"

"We've been over the numbers; it's seems pretty hopeless."

He looked weary and strained, almost guilty, the way he had when Mode in New York was in trouble.

"You did the best you could. It's not your fault. Sometimes this kind of damage is irreversible," she tried to reassure him. "Have you told your Mom and Alexis yet?"

He shook his head. "I just figured it out myself."

"I know it's upsetting Daniel. And I understand the worry you feel about putting so many people out of work but at least it's only one magazine this time and not all of Meade—"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," he interrupted sharply, removing his arm from around her and standing up to go over to the bar and pour himself a drink.

"Okay. What should we talk about?"

He shrugged with indifference and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck.

"Should I go?" she asked, wondering if he wanted time to himself.

"No." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault and I shouldn't take it out on you."

"You're upset. That's understandable."

He sank down in the chair opposite the couch she was sitting on with the scotch in his hand.

"Maybe we should get out. Maybe that would make you feel better," she suggested.

"Maybe."

"Why don't you change into jeans or something and then we'll go grab a bite to eat somewhere instead of ordering in?"

He nodded, got up, scotch in hand and went into the bedroom to change.

It was so disheartening that he couldn't save the magazine. She knew it was stupid, that he and his accountant knew much more about budgets - especially big ones like Mode had – than she did, but something inside her just wanted to help, to fix it. Not that she really thought she could, but what if by some miracle she noticed something they both had missed. Wishful thinking - probably; romantic fantasy - absolutely, but she wasn't a hopeless romantic for no reason.

She wandered over to his briefcase and laptop that were spread out on the dining room table. She looked at the spreadsheet on his laptop. She sat down to examine the numbers a little closer, scrolling through the file. It certainly looked bleak but not entirely hopeless. Maybe, just maybe… Her spirits rose a little. Daniel tended to be a little pessimistic sometimes; how many times had he been almost ready to give up when she'd rallied behind him to give him that extra boost he needed. Maybe he just needed some encouragement.

She turned and stood up when she noticed Daniel standing, almost frozen, in between the French doors. His face was hard and cold which made her even more excited about the prospect of cheering him up.

"I know you think it's hopeless. And I know you have more experience than I do, but from these numbers it looks like you could just tighten purse strings for several months, make some cuts, maybe increase revenue somehow and you _might_ be able to do it." She pointed at one of the columns enthusiastically. "Look, if you take some money from this part of the budget—"

"You're looking at my files? Why would you do that?"

"I wanted to see if I could help," she explained confused by his anger. "Why are you so upset?"

He walked over and closed the laptop. "I'm not upset." He definitely looked like he was forcing himself to remain calm.

"You sure look upset."

"I'm not. Can we just drop it?"

"Okaaay, sheesh. I just think you might be giving up on Mode too quickly. If anyone has the knowhow to save the magazine it's you Daniel. I know if you put your mind to it—"

"I said, I wanted to drop it," he interrupted.

She looked at him, her confusion growing. If she didn't know better she'd have sworn he didn't want to save the magazine. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know I tend to be a little more optimistic than you do but given these numbers I think it's _possible_ to save the magazine – difficult, for sure, but still possible. So why are you saying you can't?"

"It's complicated." Daniel answered evasively. "There's more to it than you're seeing."

"I know it wouldn't be easy but you're resourceful Daniel. You have to give it a shot." Betty implored, reaching out to take his hand.

He moved so she ended up not connecting with him and she couldn't tell if that was intentional on his part or not.

"Betty, I've been over all of this with the accountant. It would take an extremely aggressive approach to save ModeUK – long hours, lots of meetings…" he looked at her directly, pointedly, "creative sales tactics and aggressive recruiting of advertisers."

She didn't get it and she looked back at him confused. "So it's a lot of work…so what?"

He sighed in obvious frustration. "Even after all that the magazine might not survive. You know how the market is – competition in this industry is fierce. People just aren't subscribing to multiple publications anymore like they used to."

She could tell he was trying to say something without actually saying it but she didn't get it. She ignored it for the time being while she made another point.

"But ModeUK employs over seventy people, Daniel. That's over seventy people - many with families - that are counting on you doing everything you can to at least try."

"Betty this isn't just about ModeUK." Daniel said.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how whatever effort I put into saving ModeUK, is draining resources from other magazines."

"What other magazines? Meade doesn't have any other British publications." She was very confused now.

"Not Meade, Betty, competitive magazines like Londonesque."

Betty stood silent for a minute while she absorbed what he was saying.

"So you are thinking of closing ModeUK so it won't hurt Londonesque?" she finally asked, still confused.

He nodded with a relieved sigh.

"But Daniel, that's ridiculous. We aren't even the same type of magazine," Betty argued.

"No, but you know as well as I do, our demographics overlap…a lot." Daniel argued back. "Just because young people – particularly women - are interested in the world, current affairs, politics, social justice issues…whatever… doesn't make them _un_interested in fashion."

"No, that's true." Betty agreed. "But Londonesque is unique in the market. We scored more single copy sales than any of Dunne's other publications ever have," she said hopefully.

"Single copy sales don't secure a magazine, Betty, you know that. You need subscriptions, and they just aren't selling the way they used to, particularly to young people. There aren't a lot of people subscribing to multiple publications anymore. If readers can get their information from the internet why would they subscribe to a print publication that offers the same thing?"

"I'm not naïve to the uses of the internet Daniel. That's why Londonesque has an online publication. Hopefully it will entice readership of the printed version."

"Hopefully. But it's also possible that people will just read your type of public interest stories, editorial comments, and political analysis from various sources off of the internet.

Betty started to get indignant. "Well you could say the same thing about fashion. They could get the latest trends off the internet."

"Maybe, but it's still more likely they'd buy a fashion magazine than one like Londonesque." Daniel said.

"That's stupid." Betty was completely indignant now.

"No it's not, Betty. There's a reason Mode has been Meade's flagship publication for years. The glamour, the stars, the photos, the sex appeal, that's what will sell a magazine."

Betty glared at him. "Oh my gosh, do you honestly believe that? Do you underestimate people that much or are you still that shallow?"

He flinched but kept going. "It's not shallow, it's a fact. And even if that's not the case right now, I'll have to make that the case. In order to save Mode I'll have to target your market share. I'm going to have to reduce subscription rates and broaden Mode's content so I can entice new types of readers…maybe your readers."

"People who are buying Londonesque are not going to be so easily swayed to Mode just because you reduce subscription rates. That's ridiculous. You're a _fashion_ magazine Daniel. My magazine is for people who actually have substance."

He gave her a look she couldn't quite interpret. It wasn't quite an evil eye but he clearly he wasn't impressed with her comment. She felt a little guilty, only a little, but enough to soften her tone and attitude.

"Come on Daniel, let's think rationally about this. We're not competitive publications. If people like fashion they buy Mode if they like editorial opinions and stories on current affairs and world issues, they buy Londonesque."

"Maybe you're right." He sighed and Betty thought she might have convinced him but he rubbed the back of his neck and continued even though his tone was softer. "Sales are irrelevant anyway. The real issue is advertising. You know how hard it is to secure advertisers in this economy. Companies aren't spending on advertising like they used to. Many of them are cutting their advertising budgets, reducing the number of periodicals they use, or switching to other media. That means the money for magazine advertising just isn't there anymore. They'll put all their eggs in one or two baskets rather than diversifying like they did in the past. If we aggressively target advertisers we'll likely be stealing some of yours."

"_If _they go over to ModeUK." Betty said, trying to keep her cool.

"They will, Betty." Daniel said with a matter-of-fact tone that was starting to grate on Betty's nerves. "If you were an advertiser and had to choose between a young fledgling publication and an established, sexy, international name like Mode, which would you choose? Besides, in order to secure advertisers we'll have to offer creative advertising incentives that undercut all the competitive publications. Your magazine is too new and won't be able to afford to compete with us."

She might disagree with his comments about which magazine might be more popular but she couldn't disagree with him about the advertising. Of course that just made her angrier.

"So, let me get this straight…you're doing this to protect my magazine?" She looked at him directly.

He nodded and smiled a little, seemingly relieved that she finally understood.

"Well don't. I don't need your help or protection or whatever it is your doing, Daniel." His face dropped and he looked hurt. She was trying to keep calm but she knew it was a battle she was desperately losing. "I'm perfectly capable of running this magazine without you having to watch out for me. Even if Mode isn't competing against us there are plenty of other publications that are. I can make Londonesque competitive. I can sell it. I can make sure there is relevant, exciting content that people want to read and, yes, that even competes with fashion. Lindsey thinks there's a market for it or he wouldn't have hired me. _He_ has faith in me and he barely even knows me." Her words were accusatory and she saw the pain on Daniel's face but she didn't care at that moment because her pain was greater.

"I never said I didn't have faith in you or your magazine." Daniel's voice was soft and his understanding just made her more upset.

"You might as well have." She looked away. "And anyway…how can you even think of giving up on all of your Mode employees? That's selfish – they need their jobs. I can't believe you would close a magazine and put so many people out of work because you're concerned about the fate of your friend's magazine." She said angrily.

"God Betty, you are not just a friend." Daniel said earnestly.

"That almost makes it worse. You need to start thinking with your head for once Daniel…the one on top of your shoulders." She walked toward the door.

Daniel didn't respond as she walked out. She was already regretting some of the things she said to him. She would have felt guilty if she wasn't so consumed with hurt and anger.

The truth was, a big part of her anger was that she was upset at the unfairness of it all and taking it out on him. He was right, Mode was established and sexy and far more likely to be attractive to many advertisers if it went head-to-head with Londonesque, but she didn't want to be told that, even by him. For one thing Mode had its own Advertising Director, whose full time job was to secure advertising. Londonesque was too new and small to afford anything like that yet - it relied heavily on sales reps that worked for Dunne Publications and Londonesque was only one of the periodicals for which they tried to sell ad space. As great as it was that usually she didn't have to worry much about advertising, it meant he was right, Mode could take risks to secure advertisers with incentives approved by Daniel, while Betty's hands would be tied by the interests of the larger publishing company. And although it was comforting to have the backing of a huge publishing company like Dunne, she also knew business was business, and if Londonesque wasn't pulling its weight Lindsey would have to make cuts.

Not only that but with Daniel at the helm of Mode, it would be even worse. He could be an incredibly creative and talented when he put his mind to it. And he'd promise bold looks, sexy celebrity covers and who knows what else. Her magazine would be relegated to advertisers selling sensible items like feminine hygiene products, toothpaste and investment fund companies. Not that there was anything wrong with that but her magazine needed at least a few glamour products because that's where the real ad revenue was, with the companies willing to spend the big money. Securing them wasn't always easy. Securing them with Mode also courting them with entising insentives would be twice as hard.

She walked the hallway to the elevator and took it down, steaming the entire time. Did he really think she was so incapable that if he exerted a little extra effort he'd sink her magazine? Wasn't that just so…condescending and egomaniacal? Yes, he had an advantage; yes she was the underdog; but she was bright, talented, capable, determined and far more optimistic than he ever was, and that had to count for something.

She walked out onto the sidewalk, still so upset she hadn't even noticed it had started raining until she was standing in the downpour. She quickly ducked back under the hotel awning and watched the rain fall as sorely as her mood had. The drops in the puddles on the sidewalk practically mesmerizing her as she thought back to some of the harsh things that had just come out of her mouth.

"Can I hail a taxi for you ma'am?" a bellman, in a blue uniform with gold trim asked.

That ridiculous uniform. Why was it bugging her so much at this moment? Did the man hate putting that on everyday so he could greet obnoxious, rich, arrogant, spoiled people coming in and going out of that hotel?

"Uh…" she thought for a second before responding. She wanted, no _needed,_ to walk for a bit despite the rain because she needed to work off this anger. She figured she'd just wait until it died down a little. "No thanks." She smiled warmly and appreciatively at him; it certainly wasn't his fault he had to cater to the likes of entitled publication moguls that could snap their fingers and put people out of work without a second thought.

She pulled out her phone so she could talk to someone, maybe Hilda, while she waited for the rain to subside a little.

"Hey Hilda," Betty said..

"Hey Betty. You don't sound like yourself. What's wrong?"

"Daniel and I had a huge fight."

"Already?"

"Yes already. Thanks for the moral support," Betty snapped sarcastically.

"Sorry. Geez, sensitive."

"I probably shouldn't have called," Betty responded getting upset.

"Betty, stop being like that. I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?" Hilda asked sounding concerned which was all the encouragement Betty needed.

"Do you have a minute?" Betty asked looking at her watch and realizing that Hilda likely had clients in her salon.

"Mrs. Covas is still under the dryer for another ten. Spill."

"He wants to shut down Mode because he doesn't want it to hurt Londonesque." The words spilled out easily, as did the accompanying emotion and she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Thankfully the bellman had gone inside and she was standing out on the sidewalk on her own.

"What?"

"He thinks if he puts all the energy he needs to into Mode that it will steal advertisers from Londonesque and end up hurting the magazine."

"Well, will it?"

"I don't know but that's not the point."

"So what is the point?" Hilda still didn't get it.

"He obviously doesn't have faith in me and my ability to run a magazine."

"Did he say that?"

"He didn't have to. It's obvious by the fact that he wants to shut down his magazine and put so many people out of work."

"So let me get this straight, he wants to shut down his magazine so that he doesn't end up shutting down yours. Did I get that right, because I'm a little confused?" Hilda asked sincerely.

"Yes."

"Oh my gosh, that's romantic - taking a big hit like that for your big dream. Not a lot of guys would do that."

"It's not romantic Hilda, it's idiotic!" Betty could not believe Hilda went _there_. "And it shows that he doesn't think I have what it takes to make my magazine competitive," she argued.

"Maybe. Or maybe it just shows that he doesn't want to be the one standing in the way of your success. Are his arguments valid?"

She paused for a second, absolutely hating the answer she knew she had to give. "Yes," she finally managed to admit softly.

"Well then, can you blame him? How are you going to feel about him if he successfully saves his magazine and yours fails in the process?"

"But what about all those people, Hilda? It's just so cold to consider closing down a magazine that is salvageable because he's worried about his _girlfriend_."

She hated vocalizing the idea out loud. She hated that Daniel was even thinking along those lines. She hated that a part of his argument was right. She hated everything about this.

"Okay, but that's a different issue. One you should definitely talk about but not one worth having a big fight over. His intentions are good Betty, even if they aren't very rational. And I don't think you should read too much into it about him not having faith in your abilities, especially since you said his arguments are valid. He's always been supportive of you and your career. He made you an editor back at Mode, remember? And didn't you say he was the best friend and listener ever when you were trying to get your magazine up and running?"

"Whose side are you on?" she asked feeling slightly betrayed.

She wanted Hilda's allegiance in this. She wanted Hilda to tell her what an idiot Daniel was being and here she was trying to see it from his perspective.

"I'm not on anyone's side. I'm just trying to look at it objectively," Hilda explained.

"Well, maybe I don't want you to look at it objectively. Maybe I want you to support me," Betty was starting to get upset with Hilda now.

"Betty, you're obviously upset. Would it make you feel better if I told you Daniel was a big jerk?" She could tell Hilda was smiling.

"Yes." She smiled a little through her tears too.

She knew she was being unreasonable and ridiculous but she just wanted to know someone was on her side…

And that was it - the realization about what was bugging her the most about all of this. It made her throat tighten and a fresh round of tears welled up behind her eyes.

"Betty?" Hilda's voice was concerned when she hadn't spoken for a minute.

Betty sniffed, trying to hold back the new batch of tears. "I know it's stupid because we haven't worked together for months but I just feel like, for the first time ever, Daniel and I aren't on the same team."

"Oh Betty. Maybe it's not like that. I really think you need to talk to him again. Tell him that."

She hesitated for a second, the realization was starting to dawn. "I think he knows that. I think he feels that way too and I think that's why he doesn't want to try and save Mode which is ridiculous because he needs to. This isn't about us, it's about all his employees."

"You need to talk some sense into him…calmly."

Betty nodded and then realized Hilda wouldn't be able to see her. "You're right. One of us needs to be practical here."

"Maybe you should do it tomorrow, after you've had some time to cool off a little," Hilda suggested.

"Are you kidding? Daniel can be stupidly impulsive. I need to talk to him now, before he sends a giant company-wide memo saying the magazine is folding."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Aren't you still angry at him?"

"A little, but I think I'm starting to get where he's coming from. I think it's more about not wanting us to be competitors than it is about him not having faith in me." Betty sighed as she thought of going back up to his suite to finish this conversation. "I said some really horrible things to him Hilda."

"Sometimes we can be pretty nasty to the people we love the most. But you guys have been through a lot together. He'll forgive you Betty, you just need to talk about it."


	17. Work It Out

"We'll have to fortify our advertisers and aggressively recruit more," he admitted to his mother with a little reluctance.

He paced back and forth with the phone held up to his ear as if somehow he could walk away from this whole mess if he walked enough. He'd called her up as soon as Betty had left. He desperately needed to talk to someone and he figured his mother would have the most objective insight seeing as she knew how he felt about Betty but she also had a stake in the company.

"Okay, so why do you sound like someone's head is on the chopping block because of it?" she didn't seem to understand.

"Aggressively recruiting advertisers will mean stealing them from other magazines. Most companies won't spread their resources so thin as to have ads in different magazines, or at least different publishing companies."

"Oh." Claire finally understood. "And that means you'll probably be stealing them from Londonesque."

"That means we'll _have_ to steal them from Londonesque," Daniel confirmed sadly.

"Wow Daniel, you really know how to woo a woman. Causing her new magazine to drown in red ink ought to seal the deal nice and tight," Claire said with dripping sarcasm.

"Look Mom, I didn't want to do this. I told Betty the magazine couldn't be saved but she ended up looking at the numbers on my laptop and started arguing with me about it. Then she called me selfish for thinking of myself rather than the employees who need their jobs."

"So she understands the consequences of trying to save ModeUK then?"

"Yes, but obviously she's not happy about it. And she's upset with me because I told her the magazine couldn't be saved. She thinks my attempt to protect her displays a lack of confidence in her ability to run a successful magazine."

"Does it?" Claire asked pointedly.

"No. I'm just being realistic. A new publication is a risk to advertisers Mom. You know that from your experience with Hot Flash. The circulation is undefined, there are no readership stats to fall back on and it's far easier and safer to sign with a magazine like Mode. It's just a fact. Londonesque is her dream. I don't want to be the one to step all over it."

"Then don't, Darling," Claire said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I don't think I have a choice now. She told me it's selfish to give up on Mode. I'm kind of stuck either way."

"I don't mean you should give up on Mode. In some ways this has nothing to do with Mode. Betty's dream is to successfully run her own magazine. You need to let her try to do that. Do you remember when you came back from Tibet after spreading Molly's ashes? She didn't want you to step in and help her with the situation with Matt – even thought it was an awful situation - because she doesn't want you doing things for her all of the time. She's fiercely determined that way."

"Stubborn, you mean," Daniel corrected her with frustration.

"Oh Daniel," Daniel could practically picture her shaking her head at him. "Betty is an independent woman with a passionate drive to accomplish her dreams, through her own hard work and merit. If you step in here, and try to control it somehow, even though your intentions are honourable, in some way, you are stepping all over her dream."

"So what do I do?"

"Stay out of it. Run your own magazine the best way that you can."

"I'm kind of in the middle of it because my magazine is going to be a huge rival for advertisers."

"First of all, you said she understood the consequences of you trying to save Mode." She sounded like it was so straightforward. "And Lindsey Dunne didn't get to where he is today but blindly jumping into high risk ventures. He obviously thinks Londonesque is marketable and is capable of being competitive and of winning advertisers."

"That's what Betty said," Daniel replied softly.

"She's right. And second of all, you are blowing this way out of proportion. Certainly there are advertisers that you could potentially steal away from Londonesque but Londonesque has its own niche market, and advertisers know that. They can secure ones that would have no interest in Mode. I'm kind of surprised at you Darling; you know Betty well enough to know she would never in a hundred million years let you put so many people out of work just so that you don't threaten her magazine."

"Well, to be fair, I hadn't completely decided that's what I was going to do but when it came down to it and she was sitting there concerned about me, all I kept thinking was how hard she's worked for this opportunity and how much I've put her through working at Mode with all the scheming and drama. And besides, she wasn't supposed to find out that's what I was doing."

"And you should know better than that by now too." She sighed, pausing before she added cautiously "Are you sure there isn't more to it than you're telling me?"

"What else could it be Mom?" Daniel asked with annoyance.

"I don't know, maybe you're worried if Londonesque starts to flounder Betty might fall back on another project she's been offered…say a book deal that involves travel with one Vincent Bianchi."

"How do you know about that?"

"Publishing circles are small Darling, and I talk to Betty too," she said smugly. "Betty told me about his offer when she was here in New York."

Daniel swallowed hard. He didn't realize he was that transparent. Hopefully Betty didn't clue into that particular motivation.

He sighed heavily and sat down hard on the sofa. "I hate this. I don't want her to leave Mom. I can't lose her...not now."

"I know you don't want her to go but you can't keep her there by trying to remove every obstacle in her path to success."

"Not every obstacle."

"Whatever Dear, the point is, Betty wants to succeed on her own. If you don't want her to leave then don't pull any grand gestures and harebrained schemes like you did in New York where you almost burned down your office. You need to work this out with her…honestly."

"That's not going to be easy Mom. She's pretty upset with me."

"That's why it's called _working_ it out Daniel; if it was easy they'd call it something else."

Just then he heard a soft knock on his door. He looked up, confused.

"I gotta go Mom, someone's at the door but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

They hung up and Daniel pulled the door open.

"Betty!"

"Hey. Um…I think we need to finish this conversation."

"Uh, sure. Come on in." He moved aside so she could step in and then he closed the door.

Betty turned to face him. Her lips were tight, her brow furrowed. He dreaded what was going to come out of her mouth.

"Look, let's get one thing straight, I'm still annoyed with you," she said but her tone was softer than it had been. "But I said some really nasty things I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. And I never should have stormed out like I did." She looked up apologetically and despite his frustration with her Daniel felt himself soften towards her.

He swallowed and was about to speak but she continued. "Regardless of what we work out between us, you can NOT shut down Mode if it's at all possible to save it. There is too much at stake for too many people."

She spoke so adamantly but calmly that he knew he wasn't going to argue with her. But he also knew that left a whole lot of things up in the air between them.

"Betty, I never wanted to give up on Mode. I just didn't want…" he paused. He needed to wade carefully here or he'd put his foot in his mouth again.

"I know, Daniel. You don't want us to be competing," she finished for him softly and he nodded. "I kind of realized that when I was standing out in the rain downstairs. I don't want to be competing either. But let's not be emotional about this. Our magazines are completely different. There are tons of smaller advertisers who would choose Londonesque over Mode. So, yes, maybe you'll take some of the big ones," she conceded. "But we can focus on some more specialized ones that wouldn't see any benefit to advertising in Mode."

He nodded slowly. "Betty I _need_ you to know that I have a ton of faith in you and what you can do with Londonesque."

"I know."

"I'm your biggest cheerleader, remember?"

"I remember." Her eyes were sincere and starting to warm up.

"That's still the case. I know you can make Londonesque successful if you don't have big Goliaths like Mode stealing all your potential ad revenue. You have some great ideas for the magazine."

"You won't be stealing all our revenue. We'll find advertisers. I'm pretty resourceful, even if I do say so myself."

He couldn't contain the small smile. "You are definitely one of the most resourceful people I know," he agreed.

She suddenly sobered. "Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't, really."

"You did Daniel. You said Mode couldn't be saved."

"I said, I wasn't _sure _I could save Mode. And that is completely the truth. I don't know for certain that I can. I know I could bankrupt Londonesque and a few other small publications in the process of trying though."

"You said it was hopeless," she reminded him with a little annoyance.

"I said it _seemed_ hopeless. I wasn't really committal at all on either account."

"Would you stop with the loopholes? You led me to believe Mode was not salvageable." She glared at him with such furocity the guilt started welling up again.

"You're right, I'm sorry."

"You should have just told me the truth in the first place."

"Would it have prevented the argument?"

"Not necessarily but at least I would know I can trust you. Right now, I'm not so sure."

"Betty…"

"I'm serious Daniel. We can't have any kind of relationship if I doubt whether or not you're being honest with me."

The truth about Vincent and why he was so willing to give up Mode was weighing heavily on him, but not telling her wasn't the same as lying, was it? God, he hoped not because he was not about to tell her. She'd think he was flakey and self-serving, both of which were probably true but he didn't want her to know that. He felt the tension in his neck and he rubbed it, turning away from her eager, sincere face because he couldn't handle the guilt.

She tilted her head to the side and looked confused by his expression.

"Daniel?" She ducked her head to look at his downturned face. "What else aren't you telling me?"

He hated that she could read him like that.

"Nothing. What do you mean?"

"I mean you have that look. You're racked with guilt about something."

"Betty…" His tone was pleading her to stop digging.

"After what I just said you aren't going to stand there and lie to me again, are you?"

"Okay, alright." He paused gathering his thoughts. "I don't want Londonesque to fail because I don't want you to take the other offer on your plate." He looked down at the carpet and ran his hand through his hair.

"Oh my God, all of this is because of Vincent's offer?"

"Not _all_ of it, that's just one of the motivating factors behind it. I also don't want to be responsible for squashing your dreams."

"You aren't. You won't be. If Londonesque fails then it fails because I didn't have the wherewithal to make it successful. And if you really don't want me to take Vincent's offer then we need to talk about that, but you can't put a magazine full of people out of work because that's something you're afraid of."

"I know. I was being irrational, impulsive and—"

"Stupid," she finished for him bluntly, and then adding much more seriously, "And extremely entitled and self-serving." There it was. Obviously she wasn't done telling him off. "You can't just snap your fingers and get what you want regardless of who it hurts. Sure you have a lot of power but you can't abuse it. 'With great power, comes great responsibility'."

Daniel looked at her trying to figure out if she was kidding. "Spiderman Betty? Really?"

"It was a good movie and it somehow seemed appropriate to the context," she shook her head and shrugged, flustered. "I don't know, it was the only quote I could think of in the moment."

He tried to hide his chuckle with a fake cough but she saw through it and smiled gently at him. It broke some of the tension in the room but they still had a lot of things to talk about.

Daniel started. "In my defense, if I was one hundred percent sure I could save Mode we wouldn't even be having this conversation. It's just that we might go through all of this and it still might not be enough."

"Okay, but if I wasn't running Londonesque you wouldn't even consider _not_ trying to save the magazine, no matter how much of a long shot it was, would you?"

"No," he admitted softly.

"See? You have to try Daniel." She looked at him with such earnestness in her eyes. "Remember when you dressed up as a pink bunny and humiliated yourself in front of Cal Hartley so you didn't have to lay anyone off at Mode?"

"Hard to forget that."

"And remember liquidating some of your assets so you had money to put back into Meade? That's the Daniel I'm in love with."

She took a step toward him, extending her hand to take his.

"And I do love you Daniel, but I need to be able to trust you." Her face was so sincere and yet pained.

"You can. I'm really sorry Betty." He just wanted to pull her close and forget all of this.

She caressed his hand softly. "I want us to be okay," she admitted quietly looking down at their hands.

"Me too." He did pull her close now, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I love you Betty."

"Then you need to promise me you won't lie to me again."

"I won't, I swear."

She rested her head against his chest. "So what does this mean, exactly? Are we rival editors now?"

"Not exactly 'rivals'. Nothing has changed. We weren't before all of this and we aren't now. As you pointed out earlier we don't exactly run the same type of magazine."

She turned her head up to look at him. "Yeah, you were being a little melodramatic about that."

"Not about the advertising though. If you want me to try to save Mode, my advertising director and I are going to need to be aggressive," he warned her.

She felt a rock in her stomach and sighed. "I know. I hate that it feels like we're not on the same team anymore."

"Hey," he gently placed his hands on her arms and maneuvered her to a position where he could clearly look her in the eyes and assured her as firmly as he could. "We're always on the same team."

She nodded acquiescence but couldn't help feeling a little doubtful about it.


	18. Recruiting

_Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. I love reviews and they certainly encourage me to try and get the next sections up faster because at least then I know someone's reading the story. __I'm having so much fun writing this. I really miss UB and all the characters. _

_Ahh...the posting is catching up with the writing and I have so many connections still to write in order for the next sections to fit properly. Hopefully it won't take me too long... _

* * *

><p>For the next week, at least, it seemed like Daniel had been right about things not changing. There weren't any issues between the magazines and they both went about their jobs as usual, going for dinner most evenings if neither one of them had to work late and even occasionally meeting for lunch.<p>

One particularly stressful morning Daniel called Betty up because he needed to vent so they met for coffee and a snack at a café halfway between their offices.

"She just up and quit?" Betty asked as she took another bite of her bagel.

Daniel's worry lines were deep and his eyes were rimmed with red like he hadn't been sleeping. The last thing he needed was another issue to deal with. He'd ordered a toasted bagel but right now it sat on his plate, hardly touched, and Betty wondered if he was just too anxious to eat anything.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I suppose she started looking for something else because of all the rumors about the magazine being in financial trouble. It's not like she was one of the best editors I've ever worked with but at least she did her job. Now what am I going to do? What does a fashion magazine do without its Fashion Editor? I don't even have a Junior Fashion Editor to fall back on. Maybe it's a sign, Betty. Maybe I should just give up."

Betty sat quietly contemplating something for a minute. She slowly took a sip of her coffee as she thought.

"No. This is just one more obstacle to overcome. You can do this Daniel. Maybe you could shift some positions around a little?" she suggested half-heartedly. "Is anyone else even sort of capable of stepping into the position of Fashion Editor?"

Daniel shook his head. "Well, there is a great writer in Features but stylistically she's kind of a mess – bad haircut, mismatched patterns, horrible colour choices – not exactly someone I'd make the Fashion—" He looked up from his meal and caught Betty's glare. "Uh…not really," he finished sheepishly.

She thought some more, took another bite of her bagel and then said, as a joke "It's too bad Marc lives so far away, he'd jump at the chance of a promotion to Senior Fashion Editor."

Daniel paused and stared at her blankly for a second.

"What?" she asked, puzzled by his expression.

He started to smile.

"What is it?" she asked again.

"I think you might have just given me a solution to my problem." His eyes were sparkling and he seemed filled with an anxious energy all of a sudden.

"Well, I have no idea what I said, but we're going now, aren't we?" She could tell by the sudden bopping of his knee that he wasn't going to sit still here much longer.

He nodded. "Are you finished?"

"I am, but you didn't even touch yours." She pointed to his plate.

"I'll take it with me." He grabbed a couple of napkins and wrapped it up.

She popped the last part of her bagel into her mouth, chewed it quickly and swallowed before picking up her coffee to take with her.

* * *

><p>"And why would I want to come and work at ModeUK?" Marc asked into the phone.<p>

He grabbed a pen and leaned back in his desk chair, twiddling with it as if he was already bored with the discussion.

"It's a fantastic opportunity to have international experience on your resume Marc. Besides, Senior Fashion Editor, that's not a title that comes around very often and I know Wilhelmina's not quite ready to release those reigns to you yet…but I am, here at ModeUK. Listen, it's not like you'd be quitting Mode. I'll make arrangements with Wilhelmina so that we do some kind of exchange and she's not left in the lurch. It'll be like a short term work exchange program for several months, maybe for the next five or six issues, at least until I can invest the time in grooming someone else for the position – win-win for everybody," Daniel explained.

"If you have someone that is suited to replace me here then why on earth don't you just use him there? Why do you want me to come so badly?"

"Honestly? Because I have some great writers on staff but they don't have your creativity or eye for fashion. I need someone who can help me in a few different areas, not just as a writer. And Wilhelmina doesn't…not really. She's got that talented new Creative Director she hired and she still likes to make most of those decisions herself anyway, doesn't she?"

Marc looked out his glass wall just in time to see Wilhelmina, one hand on her hip, impatiently give a dismissive wave and an earful – even though it was muted from the other side of the glass - to Beth who was standing in front of her with a model in an outfit from the closet.

Daniel's words were fairly accurate. Marc loved his job and Wilhelmina was definitely leaning on him creatively like she said she would, but in many ways he just offered suggestions, many of which she used but he didn't get much credit for.

"Of course she does, she's the Editor-in-Chief," he responded. Regardless of Daniel's opinion, he still felt he should defend her.

"Exactly. But here you just have me as Editor-in-Chief. You'd have lots of creative input and freedom. Plus, you'd get a lot of the credit for it. Senior Fashion Editor on the masthead…" Daniel added to entice him.

"And you're sure this is a real opportunity? You're not getting me to come over there as some sort of glorified assistant or something, are you?"

"I have an assistant, Marc, a really good one. No, I want you to come and help me, as an editor, as a writer, and to work collaboratively with my Creative Director. She's amazing but we don't have the staff or the support that Mode in New York does, or the budget to hire them. I'm not going to lie - it'll be a lot of work but it's also a great opportunity for you." There was a pause as Marc thought it over and Daniel added as an extra incentive, "The Paris and Milan fashion weeks are coming up and I'll definitely need my Fashion Editor to cover them."

"You know I have a life here, right? I can't just go dropping everything for some little whim of yours." He needed to at least give the impression he needed to think on it some more.

There really wasn't much he'd be dropping. Of course there was Mode but obviously Daniel would make arrangements for that. And personally, he and Troy had lasted about three weeks after he'd decided to give it a shot. He might be ready for a long term relationship but he wasn't ready for it with someone quite so clingy. But Daniel didn't need to know that.

"Fine, take some time to think about it," Daniel responded reasonably. "Just let me know in the next couple of days because I really need help with the next few issues and if you decide you don't want to do it I'll need to make other arrangements."

"Okay, supposing I say yes to this little proposal, you know you'll never be able to convince Wilhelmina to agree to it."

Daniel sighed. "She is definitely going to be the road block in all of this. I was hoping, if you were on board, you might have an idea or two. You know her better than anyone."

Marc sat back in his chair to think but nothing came to him. "You could always just ask, I suppose."

"And you think that will work?" Daniel was skeptical.

"No. But I don't really have any other suggestions."

* * *

><p>"What cheap cologne has Betty been buying you over there that suddenly makes you think I'd want to do some kind of favour for you? It's obviously affecting your brain. And before you ask, of course I heard the rumour."<p>

She didn't offer her opinion on the subject and Daniel wasn't that interested in it so he didn't ask.

"It's not a favour. We'd be doing an equal exchange and giving our employees some amazing opportunities in the process."

"What do you take me for, Daniel, an imbecile? It's obviously _not_ an equal exchange or you wouldn't be so desperate to get Marc."

"Okay, alright, I have some great writers but I really need someone with Marc's eye."

"So you want to saddle me with some fashion-challenged nitwit while you get Marc?" she asked.

"'Fashion-challenged nitwit' is a little har—"

He didn't even get a chance to finish before she interrupted.

"Have you lost your mind Daniel? I need Marc here. I'm not going to part with one of my most valuable employees and that's final. You'll just have to find some other little scheme to try and keep your flailing magazine afloat. You can't have Marc."

* * *

><p>Try as he might, Marc couldn't stop moping for days. At first he wasn't sure he wanted to go at all, but Daniel was pretty convincing. Although, he had to admit, the prospect of uprooting his life was pretty unnerving. How did that little Mexican burrito ever do it so easily, especially with the ties to her family that she had? Of course, that was motivation in itself; if Betty could do it, then he could definitely do it. There was no way he'd let her one-up him in this area.<p>

And Senior Fashion Editor looked a lot better on a resume than Junior Fashion Editor. If he was there for the London Fashion Week, he'd be selecting the designers for ModeUK's show, on his own. Even if he helped with the New York show, ultimately Wilhelmina would make all the final decisions. And with actual work experience as a Senior Fashion Editor, it would be harder for Wilhelmina to say he wasn't ready to do it for Mode New York.

"What is with you lately? Did that sleazy hacker who was stealing private photos and emails off of Jake Gyllenhaal's smart phone finally get caught? " Wilhelmina asked when she was fed up with his sour expression and curt demeanor one day.

They were in her office looking over some designs from a new designer Marc had found. Wilhelmina was in her chair and Marc was standing on the other side of the desk.

"I want to go to London!" He whined it petulantly before remembering who he was talking to.

She looked a little taken aback. "London?" She said the name with a little distaste. "London is for sissies Marc. Everyone knows no real fashion comes out of _London_."

"I know Willie, but Senior Fashion Editor of ModeUK…"

"Is not nearly as impressive as it sounds. It's London Marc, not Milan. It's the capital of wool and plaid, bad hats and even worse teeth. Name one decent designer that has come from there."

"Alexander McQueen, John Galliano, Stella McCartney, Vivienne Westwood..."

"I said one, Marc," she interrupted him very obviously annoyed at his response. She changed the subject. "I can't believe you would choose to go and work for Daniel after everything we've been through."

"It's not like that Willie."

"Isn't it?"

"No. I just think it would be a great opportunity for me to gain experience and when I come back – and I will be back – I'll have so much more to offer Mode…and you."

Her expression softened a little. "I suppose it is a fabulous opportunity for you," she admitted so humanly that Marc was almost stunned by her show of support.

"And you would be getting a talented writer you can groom in the way of fashion," he reminded her, suddenly hopeful about the direction of this conversation.

She gave him a distasteful look.

"Or someone you could take down a couple of notches, if you prefer," he suggested instead.

"Well, I have been bored lately," she conceded thoughtfully. "It's not the same without Daniel around here."

Marc's eyes widened and he gasped. "Please tell me you did not just say that." He grasped the back of the chair and lowered himself into it slowly. "Oh my Gucci the world is spinning."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic about it. I just meant there's no one to shatter the image of his own self-importance. There isn't even anyone to insult."

"So…does this mean you might consider letting me…" He dared not finish that sentence.

"Maybe. But I will not eat crow, Marc. I will not call Daniel back to tell him that I was wrong and I've changed my mind."

"Of course not Willie, I would never ask you to. But what if I call him and tell him I begged and pleaded and you in your compassion decided to allow it."

"_Compassion_?" She said it like the word disgusted her.

"Or…" He paused while he formulated another idea. "We could just pretend you've decided to do him a favour so that the failure of ModeUK doesn't reflect back poorly on Mode here in New York. I could even pretend I went kicking and screaming."

Wilhelmina looked thoughtful as she contemplated it. "That is not a horrible idea. It can't be a bad thing for Daniel to think he owes me. But I swear Marc, if you come back with an accent or a penchant for ridiculous hats, I'll be looking for your replacement."

"No, no, of course not." Marc was almost incredulous that she had actually agreed.

There was a couple of seconds of silence before she spoke again. "If you tell anyone I said it, or respond to it with undue emotion, I will categorically deny it, and immediately put an ad in the paper for your job…"

Marc looked up at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she was going to say and she concluded softly, "It won't be the same around here without you and I'm really going to miss you."

"Aww, Willie…" Marc's heart warmed.

Wilhelmina glared and held her finger up as a warning, causing Marc to sober immediately and nod quietly with a small smile.


	19. Not Quite Sleeping with the Enemy

Back in London, things were busy on a personal front because Daniel moved into his new place and Betty helped. He'd become extremely excited about it now and Betty could only determine from that that his lack of excitement previously had been because he had been so indecisive about the direction of Mode.

When she first arrived there with him after work, the day after he got the key, he made a huge production like only he could.

"Okay, get ready for the most spectacular apartment you've ever seen in your entire life," he said, key poised in the lock ready to be turned. He turned to face her. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready," Betty smiled; this was exactly the enthusiasm she'd been expecting from him initially.

"Are you sure? Because you don't look ready. I gotta be honest, you look like you just want to put the box down."

"Daniel, would you open the stupid door already, this box is heavy," she shook her head at him.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Ta daaa…" He flicked the light switch even though there wasn't really a need because the massive bank of windows opposite the front door was letting in plenty of light.

"Wow." Betty was almost speechless by the view of the treed park out the wall of windows.

"I know. And look…" he stepped over to the kitchen peninsula and stepped behind it. "I'm in my kitchen and I can see everything going on in my apartment."

The entire plan of the living area was open with no solid walls separating the kitchen, living room or dining area.

"That might be more convenient if you didn't live alone," she teased with a chuckle. "Or if you cooked." She wandered over and placed the box she was carrying on the counter.

"Well, whatever, it's still cool. Besides, I'm going to learn to cook. And check this out, a fireplace." He walked over to the fireplace on the side wall and picked up a remote off of the mantel. He pressed a button and the low flames ignited. "A little room ambiance. Romantic, right?"

She chuckled again, amused by his excitement. "Definitely romantic," she agreed.

He pressed another button and the flames grew. "And for extra warmth…"

He pressed another couple of buttons and suddenly there was a loud roar and massive flames filling the fireplace so much it looked a little dangerous. They both quickly took a step back and Daniel urgently fiddled with the remote to turn it off.

Betty raised her eyebrows and stifled her smile. "Mmm…cozy."

"Maybe we don't need the flames quite that high," he suggested meekly, putting the remote down.

She had to admit it was a beautiful fireplace with brick that went all the way up to the cathedral, second story ceiling. A fan on a long stem hung from the ceiling circulating the air around the loft. There was a small hall to the left of the entrance.

"What's down there?" she asked.

"A bathroom and a guest bedroom," he answered. "Boring, but follow me."

He led her up the set of stairs on the opposite side of the room, to the railing that overlooked the entire living area. He briefly showed her the washroom and a small bedroom before standing abruptly in front of her in the doorway to another room.

"This is my bedroom. Do you think you can handle it?" he teased with a smirk.

She chuckled again. "I'll try."

The master bedroom was huge with an amazingly large walk-in closet that rivaled the size of Betty's own bedroom and a separate bathroom and space for a sitting area. At the far end was a massive king size bed – the only piece of furniture he'd purchased so far – situated directly across from another fireplace.

"Wow, it's beautiful." She wandered around briefly, admiring it. She wandered into the walk-in to check out the space. "This is huge. I could sleep in here."

"Believe me, when you stay over you won't be sleeping in the closet," his voice was low and it set a shiver down her spine.

"I was referring to the size of it," she whispered shyly. "It's as big as my bedroom."

He nodded, and walked towards her, leaning in to kiss her softly. She was about to deepen it when he broke from it and smiled warmly.

The kiss was sweet and affectionate but not like some of the ones they'd shared early on and Betty felt a little frustrated. He seemed to have cooled off considerably lately. A small part of her wished they would have just slept together that first morning or even when she'd stayed over that night, even though she wasn't quite ready then, because now he was being so freaking gentlemanly she thought it might never happen if she didn't initiate it, and she was so not in the place to initiate it lately.

For one thing, the process of catching her head up to the rest of her, had given her just a little too much time to think about it. It wasn't the sheer volume of women Daniel had slept with that was the intimidating factor, (but only because she chose not to think about that too much) it was the type – models, supermodels, celebrities, and glamazons. Had he ever seen a woman larger than a size two naked? It was all a little much for a regular girl to absorb. The fact that he'd married Molly didn't even provide any comfort because, although Molly maybe wasn't quite as glamorous as many of the others, she was classically beautiful with soft features and, more importantly, a tiny waist. And she was certainly stunning enough to be the featured bride on the wedding issue of Mode.

The one thing she was counting on was that she might lose her head while they were embroiled in something hot and it would just happen. But lately he was being extremely and uncharacteristically reserved - affectionate, for sure, but not very...assertive. She hoped it was just because he didn't want to push her and not because he'd had too much time to think too and was feeling apprehensive about the prospect of this next step with "average girl". Given that this was Daniel though, she was starting to get a little worried.

Actually, if it wasn't for those first couple of heated encounters and the odd comment like the one he'd just made, she would have thought maybe it was only some kind of affection he actually felt for her after all. It was that tiny niggling thought that struck terror in her if she dwelt on it too much, and certainly prevented her from having enough confidence to initiate anything herself. And frankly, the concept of her seducing Daniel was almost laughable anyway, given their history together and his track record.

* * *

><p>Claire arrived promptly after he was moved in and spent the next several days hiring a decorator and shopping for Daniel's new apartment. She seemed to enjoy taking over and for the most part Daniel let her, convinced by her argument that if she'd been sober when he moved into his loft in New York she would have made sure he never ended up with that hideous adolescent mural.<p>

The apartment was painted, professionally of course. There was one small incident with a love seat and sofa but other than that things went smoothly.

"You look like you ate something that disagrees with you Daniel," Claire commented as he stared at the large floral print objects in his living area.

He and Betty had just arrived at his place after stopping at the grocery store on the way home from work.

"The designer picked these?" He didn't seem to believe it.

"They're lovely, aren't they Betty?" Claire asked, looking for some support.

"Uh…" They were nice, a little feminine, but they were elegant. She wasn't sure how to respond though because obviously Daniel hated them.

"We can take them back, right?" he asked.

"I don't know why you'd want to take them back. The colours are perfect with the rest of the scheme."

"It's just they're a little bit girly," he shrugged, obviously trying not to hurt his mother's feelings.

"A floral pattern is perfectly acceptable for a man to have in his apartment," Claire defended.

"Sure, if that man is Marc maybe."

"Oh fine, we'll take them back," she replied sounding moderately annoyed.

"Stripes are good," he suggested. "Leather's even better. And I love that painting," he added, pointing to the new art hanging on the only available wall space as attempt at placating her.

"Well the painting goes with the sofas and if we're changing them we may have to find something different," Claire said with a tone that meant she wasn't going to make it easy on him.

She took out her cell phone and dialed the interior designer who was now on her speed dial. "He hates the sofa and love seat." There was a short pause on Claire's end. "Yes, I know. I tried to tell him that but you know how men can be." She walked down the hall toward the bedroom.

"Well that went well," he said sarcastically to Betty and she chuckled.

They brought the groceries over to his kitchen peninsula and set them down on the granite counter. Daniel wandered around the peninsula so he could put them away.

"Do you think she's really offended?" Betty asked

"She'll get over it," he replied, as he started putting the groceries away. He obviously didn't care or knew it would blow over shortly.

In a matter of seconds Claire was back, throwing her coat on. At first Betty was worried that she was so offended she was leaving.

"Helen has a fabulous alternative she wants to show me Darling. She said she'd meet me at the furniture store right now. You certainly are lucky because the woman is incredibly busy."

Daniel was about to say something just as she was out the door but Claire interrupted. "I know, I know, no flowers." She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively at him as she closed the door behind her.

"Leather…" he hollered at the door just before it latched.

Betty enjoyed the chance to see Claire. The three of them went to dinner a few nights and Betty even had dinner with her on her own one evening when an emergency came up at Mode.

She'd been thinking of starting to pack her stuff up for the evening when Daniel had called her at work to ask her if it was alright if she went with Claire alone.

"Sure, I love your Mom. Uh…she's not going to give me some third degree about our relationship since she has me one-on-one, is she?"

"Probably, but she'll just be being nosy so you can tell her to mind her own business."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Betty smiled at the concept.

Claire, surprisingly, wasn't nosy at all. In fact, they barely spoke about Daniel the entire dinner. They spoke about Hot Flash and Meade Publications, about Betty's job and about her family, and generally just really enjoyed each other's company.

* * *

><p>A few days later, after Claire had headed back to the States, Betty was responding to a couple of emails one morning shortly before lunch when Lindsey walked in looking downcast. He took the seat across from her desk.<p>

"Bad news, Betty. It seems _NaturalOne Cosmetics_ have decided to go in a different direction after their contract runs out next month."

Betty's heart sank. When they first signed with Londonesque, Betty thought the organic, all natural cosmetic company was a perfect fit for her demographic. They were reasonably priced and environmentally aware and the new company was making exceptional strides in the market. She'd felt like their partnership was almost symbolic. This news was a huge disappointment.

"What? But I thought we were almost guaranteed they would sign for another year provided magazine sales were acceptable. And they've been more than acceptable."

"I know but it seems they have decided to put most of their advertising resources into a more established periodical. It looks like your old boss is more than just a good boss, apparently he's a good salesman too."

"Do you know for sure it was Mode?" She was feeling a little ill about it.

Lindsey nodded. "The president told me himself, off the record, Mode offered a contract that, and I quote, 'no sane advertiser would pass up'. Even if we offered the same deal, we can't compete with the exposure they'll get in a fashion magazine."

Betty felt her shoulders slump but she tried to remain positive.

"Well, we'll just have to work a little harder to find someone or a few someones to replace them." She tried to muster a smile.

"Ahh, that's the spirit. Full of optimism and determination, you are, Betty. We can't let a little setback like this get us down, can we? That old boss and friend of yours is going to prove to be a force to be reckoned with though." He stood to leave.

"Boyfriend," she corrected him softly looking up cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Oh? When did this transpire?" Lindsey looked incredibly curious.

"Right after I got back from New York."

"Well, that makes things interesting, doesn't it? Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course. I'm a professional, I assure you Mr. Dunne. I'm not going to let my relationship interfere with business," she replied.

"I didn't mean that. I meant…personally." He looked concerned. "There must be a little sting in this that isn't strictly professional."

"I'm fine. I'm sure it was his Advertising Director that sold it anyway." Although if the contract was that aggressive it had to have been approved by Daniel and she could definitely picture him sitting in on the meeting.

"It doesn't lessen the sting that it was your boyfriend's magazine snagging our biggest advertiser."

"He's just doing his job. I can't really fault him for that." She smiled at him with much more enthusiasm than she really felt. "Besides, I've been doing my own research and I think I may have found some companies that would be interested in our exact demographic." She pulled up the page of website links and turned her monitor so Lindsey could see it.

He smiled, impressed. "Resourceful, determined, and a ton of initiative… email that to me and I'll make sure it gets into the right hands. I'm glad you're on my team, Betty Suarez."

There was something about the last part of that statement that stung almost as much as this recent news.

As soon as he left she picked up the phone and dialed Daniel.

"Hey Betty." Daniel's voice was warm and soft. "Are we still on for our date tonight?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were meeting with _NaturalOne Cosmetics_?" She didn't even bother answering his question and even though she knew hers was ridiculous - it's not like they spoke in detail about every meeting they ever went to – she couldn't stop herself from asking it anyway.

"What?"

"You met with _NaturalOne Cosmetics_ and got them to sign with Mode," she clarified.

"Yeah. How do you know that? Wait…don't tell me, they advertise in Londonesque?"

"They _used_ to advertise in Londonesque. Apparently after their contract runs out at the end of the month, they will be advertising in Mode." She couldn't keep the frustration and anger out of her tone.

"I had no idea—"

"Of course you didn't." She sighed heavily. She knew it wasn't his fault; this whole thing was bound to get messy occasionally. "You probably also didn't know they were our biggest advertiser."

"God Betty, I'm so sorry." He sounded so remorseful it was difficult to stay angry. "If they were your biggest advertiser why didn't you have a longer contract with them?"

"Because we're a new publication, Daniel. They didn't want a longer contract. They wanted a probationary contract so they could assess how the magazine was doing before they committed long term. But I guess, in the long run, they didn't really care how it was doing when Mode came along to sweep them off of their feet." The frustration was back.

"Look Betty, I knew this was going to happen. Mode is established and it's more attractive because of that. I hate to say 'I told you so—"

"I think you just did," she cut him off growing increasingly annoyed.

There was silence on the phone for a minute.

Finally Daniel spoke softly, sounding disappointed. "Does this mean you're too annoyed with me to go out tonight?"

Her heart softened toward him. This was so hard...probably on both of them. Of course she was the one who told him he needed to do this, so she was really in no position to complain.

"No," she replied quietly.

"No, you're not too angry? Or no…way in hell you're going out with me?" he joked cautiously.

She smiled despite herself and sighed. "It's impossible to stay upset with you. So yes, we're still on for tonight."

He exhaled audibly. "I'm so glad Betty."

When she hung up she couldn't help but feel like she was sleeping with the enemy. Not that she and Daniel were sleeping together yet, but it was certainly heading that way. In fact, earlier this morning she'd been feeling particularly self-confident as she dressed for work in one of her favorite outfits, and she'd been thinking that it would probably be tonight at the end of their date. She had even been determined to overcome whatever was going on in her head and initiate it, she was feeling just that resolute about the whole thing. Unfortunately, right now she wasn't feeling very amorous, and her ego was a little battered from this blow to her magazine. How ever the day had started out, she seriously doubted she'd be initiating anything now.


	20. Green Is Not a Good Colour On You

"Mr. Meade, Miss Suarez is here." Mickey's voice came through the intercom into Daniel's office.

"Send her in, please. Oh, and Mickey, we're pretty well finished for today so you might as well go home."

"See you bright and early. Don't forget you have that eight-thirty meeting with the new photographer," Mickey reminded him.

"Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me."

Just then the door to his office opened and Betty walked in wearing a bright yellow blouse and navy skirt with tiny yellow and white polka dots, underneath a light overcoat. She had her hair held back in a clip, something she often did because of the London weather.

"Hey." She greeted him with one of her amazing smiles and walked over to his desk.

"Hi." Reflexively his face broke into a wide grin like it always did when she smiled at him like that.

He longed to pounce on her and rip, at least, her coat off but he reminded himself to behave. This was Betty, and they weren't at the pouncing stage yet…he didn't think. Actually, he didn't know. He kept waiting for her to give him some sort of sign that she was ready for more than just the warm affection he'd been showing and much to his chagrin she hadn't yet. It was almost painful but he was determined to do the right thing. Betty deserved someone who was patient and let her decide the timing which is why he wasn't even bringing it up. On the one hand, they had only been dating a couple of weeks - not really a very long time by many people's standards. On the other hand, they had been dating an entire two weeks – an extremely long time by his. Besides, it's not like he and Betty were strangers. They knew so much about each other already. But maybe that was part of the problem; maybe her reservations had to do with everything she knew about him. He wished he knew if that were true and a part of him was determined to talk to her about it in the next couple of days if he could work up the nerve.

So instead of pouncing, he stood up and gave her a soft kiss.

"I'm just wrapping a few things up. Hey, while you're here, which do you think is a better shot for the cover?" He pushed the two photos over to the corner of the desk where she was standing and sat back down in his seat to pack up.

"Should I even be looking at these? I am the enemy now, aren't I?"

Daniel looked up to determine if she was kidding. He wasn't sure she was completely over the _NaturalOne Cosmetics_ episode even though it had been a couple of days and she had been acting normal since then. She was smiling sweetly and didn't seem upset.

"We decided we weren't direct competitors, remember?" he said cautiously.

"Yeah, but what if it inspires me and I inadvertently steal an idea from you?"

He grinned, starting to relax. "I doubt Emma Watson in an evening gown will inspire you but that's a risk I'm willing to take. Tell me, which one you think is better?"

She bent over a little to examine them closely.

Just then Mickey buzzed again. "Mr. Meade, Marc St. James is on line one for you."

"Marc? Okay, thanks, put him through." When it rang Daniel connected it on the speaker phone so he could continue putting his stuff away.

"Hello Marc. What's up?"

"Hi Daniel. I just had a few ideas that might help make my coming to London a little easier on me."

"Is that right?" Daniel asked, not at all surprised.

Even though Marc had already agreed he sure was milking this for all it was worth. Daniel had already agreed that he'd have his own office and an assistant to help him, and that he'd help find him a decent flat in the city so he had something when he got here which was supposed to be only another week out.

"I imagine I'll have a ton of expenses being your new fashion editor. It might make it easier if I had a company credit card so that I didn't have to ask for approval for everything before I purchase it."

"You want your own company credit card?" Daniel asked looking at Betty and rolling his eyes. Betty smiled back.

"It just makes sense."

"I don't know Marc, I'll have to think about that one."

"Fine, take some time to think about it. I'm sure you'll see the reasoning behind it."

"Oh, Betty's here," Daniel added.

"Frump-a-lots there? What's she wearing today? Would the synthetics ignite in the sun if you held a magnifying glass over it for longer than a few seconds? Or would the patterns cause your retinas to fry before the sun had a chance to do its work."

"You're on speaker phone Marc," Daniel informed him slightly annoyed and putting his hand on Betty's lower back protectively.

She didn't seem fazed by it. He supposed she was used to his snide remarks after four years of working with him.

"Hey Marc," Betty piped up.

"Hey Betty. So, the patterns or the igniting synthetics, which is it?" Marc obviously wasn't bothered that she'd heard it either.

"It must be the synthetics, I guess, because I'm only wearing polkadots." Betty was the one to answer.

"One pattern, Suarez? What's happened to you? Are they at least multi-coloured and varying sizes?"

"Actually there are only two colours and the dots are fairly small." She was examining her outfit.

Marc didn't say anything for a minute, as if he was stunned. "Is there something in the water over there that effects a person's fashion sense? Because my taste is impeccable and I'm not really willing to mess with that."

"Marc, what else did you call for?" Daniel asked, getting frustrated, he wanted to get to dinner with Betty.

"Oh, right. I want you to hire Amanda." He said bluntly.

"What!" Daniel looked at Betty, shocked, and Betty shrugged, equally surprised.

"I want you to hire Amanda." Marc repeated.

"Why would I do that? I don't have a job for her."

"Well, it's not like she did much at Mode anyway. Make something up for her."

"Don't be ridiculous, Marc."

"Marc, Amanda has her own business now. Why would she even want to put that on hold to come to London?" Betty asked.

"She's in a bit of a lull right now. Besides, she and I have this special connection. She's like my creative muse."

Betty rolled her eyes and Daniel smiled in amusement at her expressiveness.

"I'm sorry Marc, I can't hire Amanda."

"Come on Daniel. You owe her."

"I owe her? What?"

"Yeah, you know. Remember in the Bahamas when you couldn't get your rooster to—"

Daniel's stomach dropped and he immediately pressed a button to take the phone off of speaker but it didn't work.

"—crow? She more than willingly obliged and helped you keep it—"

He was in complete panic mode now as he pressed two or three more buttons but none of those worked to take it off of speaker either and the more flustered he got the harder it was to think straight.

"—crowing for months afterwards. In fact, if she hadn't helped you then, you'd probably still be having trouble and not be able to get it to do the...ugh…and I shudder to think of it…the Mexican Mambo with _that _one right now."

Finally, Betty calmly reached over him, pressed something to take it off of speaker and handed him the receiver. He smiled sheepishly and Betty, with a blank expression, went back to examining the photos on his desk.

"I'm not hiring Amanda, Marc." Daniel was firm as he spoke into the receiver.

"You know I'm going to have to hire contractors to help with the photo shoots anyway. Just get her a ticket, she can stay with me and I'll hire her for the occasional contract spot."

"What is going on? Why are you so desperate for her to come to London?"

"Okay, fine, but you did not hear this from me." Marc spoke softer. "There's been a little incident."

"What kind of incident?" Daniel asked suspiciously.

"Amanda heard Julia Stiles was looking for a new stylist so she called a few times to convince her that she should give her a shot. When Miss Stiles didn't call her back she figured she would try and run into her. She was kind of caught hanging outside her Manhattan home, at a restaurant, outside her gym…"

"She was stalking her?" Daniel asked incredulously.

"Stalking is such an ugly word and, if convicted, a felony in thirteen states. Amanda was merely trying to connect with her because, obviously, she hadn't gotten her first couple of hundred messages. Anyway, there was a whole incident with a garden hose and blah, blah, blah so now there's kind of a restraining order against her. Mandy's feeling a little vulnerable right now and I think it would be best if she escaped the city for a couple of weeks, or months, I don't know."

"Is she even allowed to travel?"

"She hasn't been charged with anything," Marc said defensively and then he softened. "I just want to get her into a new environment. Besides, I feel guilty leaving her right now, so if you won't help I'm afraid I won't be able to come." He added the last part almost haughtily.

"Marc, don't be like that," Daniel begged.

"I'm sorry Daniel. I know _you _think that this is a wonderful opportunity for me but I'm afraid friendship is more important to me than my career," he said dramatically.

Daniel scoffed and then asked, "Since when?"

"Funny. Amanda Tannen-Sommers means the world to me. She's the wind in my sails, the helium in my balloon, the Dr. Scholls inserts in my new Ferragamos."

"Argh," Daniel groaned in frustration. "Fine. I'll get her a ticket, she'll stay with you and you can hire her for a few of the photo-shoots. I suppose that means you need a two bedroom flat now?"

"That would definitely be more convenient," Marc agreed.

Daniel sighed and looked at Betty who's eyebrows were practically to her hairline.

He wasn't sure if it was surprise or slight disappointment that he saw more of, but it was definitely that same expression that she'd given him when she'd found out he hired that freakishly tall assistant, Lexy or whatever her name was.

After he'd hung up the phone he turned to Betty and braced himself. He knew exactly what was coming.

"Sooo, you're hiring Amanda now?" Betty asked with that subtle accusatory tone he absolutely hated.

"No, I'm buying Amanda a plane ticket to London," Daniel corrected her.

"Right, so Marc can hire her to be the stylist on some photo-shoots."

"Mmm hmm," he agreed. His voice was slightly higher pitched than normal and he was feeling guilty for some reason he couldn't really identify. He gathered up his papers and avoided eye contact. "So which one to you think?" he asked, indicating the photos, and trying to change the subject.

"This one," Betty pointed to the one on the right and Daniel examined it closer. "I thought the budget was already strained. Wouldn't it be far more prudent to hire a local stylist? One you don't have to fly over from New York?"

"There's been an incident. What's the issue? You and Amanda are friends; I thought you would be thrilled she was coming."

"I would be…I am," she said hesitantly.

"That certainly didn't sound like thrilled." He examined her face and she looked back down at the photos on his desk. "What's wrong Betty?"

"Nothing. Are you finished packing up?" She gestured at his laptop bag.

"You do like Amanda, don't you?"

"Of course I do…I do," she insisted again. "Come on let's get going."

She was definitely doing her best to try and drop the subject but Daniel could tell there was something bothering her.

"What is it Betty? Why does Amanda coming to London bother you so much?"

"It doesn't. I just thought it wasn't very practical for the bottom line."

"That's all it is?"

"Of course. What else would it be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I thought maybe you were jealous."

She shook her head and scrunched her face up distastefully. "That's ridiculous. Why would I be jealous of Amanda?"

"Uh, maybe because I used to sleep with her," Daniel ventured to guess.

Betty cringed and turned away. "We should get going. Don't we have reservations?"

"You _are_ jealous." He wasn't certain when he'd first stated it but her reaction confirmed it. He took her hand as she started to move toward the door. "Betty, Amanda and I are just friends."

"I know that." She looked him in the eyes now, her expression changed to one of hard determination. Determined about what, he couldn't be sure.

"Do you?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Because you definitely seem…insecure."

"I'm not insecure," she assured him. "And I'm not jealous."

He didn't buy it. Betty was pretty self-assured and she seemed confident in the way he felt about her, but the fact was, he had slept with Amanda...multiple times at two different points in the four years Betty had known him. And although Betty hadn't cared much at the time it was happening, things between them were very different now, so it had to be at least uncomfortable that Amanda was going to be doing some work at ModeUK.

"Amanda never meant anything to me. You know that, right? It was completely physical." He felt he needed to reassure her.

If her facial expression was any indication, he hadn't.

"You know what? I'd really rather not talk about this. And for future reference, telling me it was 'completely physical'…not particularly helpful." She waved her hand in front of her to emphasize her point.

"We need to talk about this, especially if Amanda is coming here and going to be working at Mode." He stood up and pulled her into his arms. "I love you Betty."

"I know," she seemed to soften a little.

"Nobody makes me feel the way you do," he assured her.

She smiled feebly.

"I'm serious," he was earnest.

She smiled a little broader but then she added, looking slightly vulnerable, "I'm sorry. But how would you feel if Matt came back from Africa and I hired him at Londonesque?"

"I'd hate it. But this is different."

"How?"

"I never loved Amanda. You were head over heels for Hartley."

She nodded quietly but didn't look convinced.

"Come on Betty. What else can I do to convince you?"

"Nothing. You're right, this is stupid." She shook her head as if to shake the uncomfortable emotions away.

"I never said it was stupid," he corrected her.

"No, I'm saying it's stupid. And I'm going to forget about it," she smiled more sincerely that time and he started to feel a little better although he wasn't convinced she's was going to be able to forget about it and wondered when, exactly, it was going to rear its ugly head again.

* * *

><p>Betty was slightly distracted by her thoughts as they sat in the restaurant not far from Daniel's office waiting for their meals. He was going on about some temperamental photographer who insisted he have a say in the set design of the cover shoot or something but she couldn't really concentrate on what he was saying.<p>

_It was completely physical._ Betty hated that expression. It was a horrible attempt to write off a relationship like it was meaningless and irrelevant. If it was meaningless and irrelevant, how did you end up in bed? There had to be at least some level of chemistry and attraction for that to happen. So instead, what the stupid phrase did was conjure up images of a scorching lust so carnal and uncontrollable the two people couldn't keep their hands off each other despite the fact they have no real emotional connection. The last thing Betty wanted emblazoned into her brain was that kind of image of Daniel with Amanda. Particularly since she hadn't even had the chance to create her own images with him yet and given the fact she was worried when she did, they'd be less scorching and carnal, more tepid and…sweet. Not that there was anything wrong with sweet.

When he'd used that expression, and even now, she could almost envision them, all the passion and drama of one of Papi's telenovelas but with the cheesy Coronation Street music in the background…

_In the living room of a tiny British terrace house the hero takes the blonde in his muscular arms. _

"_Don't be daft Daniel. We can't do this, it's wrong. What about Betty?" she exclaims with a British accent, dramatically tilting her face away to avoid his advances._

"_I can't help it, Amanda. I need this," he begs._

_The blonde looks back up. "I need this too," she admits, gasping, before she suddenly tears his shirt open and the buttons go flying._

_He hero looks down at his bare chest, stunned for a second and then rips the front of the blonde's dress. There is another dramatic pause as they gaze hungrily at each other and then he dips her back. Her blonde locks cascade behind her. Her back arches into a sensuous pose emphasizing the bountiful cleavage that the white dress, torn open in passionate haste, can no longer conceal. The hero bends forward and kisses her passionately, and then suddenly he stops as the heroine bursts through the door._

"_Daniel! Amanda! What are you doing?" _

_Amanda turns her face toward the door. "Betty! Sorry about this, but tepid and sweet don't really cut it with Daniel for very long. We have a scorching, carnal lust that's so uncontrollable we cannot keep our hands off each other."_

_The hero lifts his eyes up and turns his face to her as well. "Oh, hey Betty, Amanda's right. I love you and everything but I need a little, you know…heat. Don't worry though, this thing with Amanda doesn't mean anything, it's completely physical. Just give me five or ten...maybe fifteen minutes, and I'll be right with you." He bends down and continues with the kiss._

Betty shook her head to snap herself out of that stupid daydream. How sick was she? And why did Amanda have a fake British accent? She sighed deeply, frustrated for letting her imagination get carried away.

"What?" Daniel asked, concerned.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

She didn't want to get into this with him. She wasn't mad at him, she wasn't upset and she wasn't really even jealous, she didn't think. Insecure...probably, but that was her own issue to deal with so there really wasn't much to say about it.

He didn't look like he believed her but he continued telling his story about the photographer, anyway.

She went back to her thoughts. Certainly Daniel didn't feel about Amanda the way he had about Molly, or even Sophia or Renee for that matter. But you don't sleep with someone unless there is something there.

Betty liked Amanda. They'd really grown in their friendship, particularly after living together and after that whole thing with Matt. She'd had a blast with her in London when they'd come for Hilda's bachelorette party. And Amanda even seemed to like her a little now too. She didn't want something stupid like her insecurity to get in the way of all of that. It barely bothered her, at all, that Daniel and Amanda had slept together because it was in the past. Well, apart from the fact that, the second time it was happening, she had been a little disappointed because she kind of thought whatever shallow thing they were doing was a little beneath both of them. As long as Amanda was in New York, Betty was confident she could handle the occasional comments Amanda made about Daniel's "preferences" because that was just Amanda being Amanda. Unfortunately, she wasn't so sure how all of this would pan out when Amanda was here in London, at Mode, seeing Daniel during the day more than Betty did.

Enough was enough. This stewing and fretting was not helpful or productive. The fact was, she wouldn't know how any of this would go down until Amanda actually got here. Maybe she'd cope with this amazingly well. After all, Daniel loved her and she felt confident in that.


	21. Who da Man?

_Wow...such wonderful reviews after my last post, so thank you to everyone for all the delightful comments. I definitely wanted to get on the ball with writing this next part so I didn't leave you hanging and I'm feeling a little lame posting only one chapter after making it a habit to post 3 or 4 at once. _

_**Advisement/warning ****for upcoming chapters:** I was having some difficulty deciding how to rate the chapter that follows this one (lots of sex talk but it's not graphic) so I've opted to play it safe and up the rating of this story to an M the next time I post. I'm so sorry to do this mid-stream but my conscience is telling me that even some of what I've already written might be pushing the T envelope a little. The new M rating is for innuendo, suggestive themes and mature situations only. There isn't any descriptive, graphic content and there won't be because it's in my nature to cut the scene before it gets too spicy. That being said the situations are definitely implied and mentioned which I think warrents an M rating. __I might be being overly cautious but better safe than sorry and I'd rather not offend anyone's sensibilities. _

_Anyway, enough formalities, on with the story..._

* * *

><p>Daniel was in his office meeting with his Creative Director, Elaine, an attractive middle aged woman with an eye for fashion, and a creative flair with the intelligence to match. She didn't possess the creative acumen of Wilhelmina Slater but she also didn't possess her evil, scheming nature either. He marveled at how much better it was working with someone you got along with and who wasn't trying to steal your job or make you look like an idiot at every opportunity. Besides, he had Marc on his way in another week or two so that would definitely bolster the creative talent of his staff.<p>

Elaine was one of the few employees who knew the truth about what dire straits Mode was actually facing, and he'd called her in to do a little brainstorming about what approach they could take to boost revenue or cut back expenses.

"I think we need to broaden our horizons a little," Elaine suggested from one of the chairs across from his desk. "Mode needs to expand its readership to increase sales." She tapped her pen on the pad of paper in front of her as she was thinking it through.

"Right. So do you have any suggestions how we do that?"

Daniel was standing behind his desk doing a moderate amount of pacing. Occasionally he'd stop and lean on the back of his desk chair, but he didn't want to sit down. He felt like he could think clearer standing up for some reason, as if the blood flow to his brain was impeded by having his butt in a chair. Alexis would have a heyday with that; he could practically hear her: _Is your brain in your ass dipwad? That would explain why your head is in there all the time. _What did it say about him that he could clearly hear her insults when she wasn't even in the same country?

"Well…" Elaine was thoughtful as she responded to his question. "We could modify our format slightly…like beefing up the book reviews with meatier titles than _Hats, Flats and All That – a Guide to Perfect Accessorizing_. We need to appeal to a different class of women."

Daniel nodded contemplating it. "But we're a high end fashion magazine. I don't want to water that down. That might just alienate the readership we already have."

"So we don't water it down much. Apart from the book reviews, which I'm sure everyone would appreciate becoming slightly more intelligent, it doesn't require changing any of the other sections. But, think about this: Gucci is now offering a more reasonable line of accessories and I think Yves St. Laurent is starting a lower end clothing line. It seems everyone is going that way in this market. We could have an entire section that features these lower end lines. Didn't you have a 'Mode girl on the street' segment in Mode New York that featured what regular women were actually wearing? We could do something like that but expand on it so that it's more than just a monthly highlight."

Daniel noticed Mickey, who was sitting in the other chair taking notes on his laptop, pause for a minute and look up, his eyebrows raised with interest.

"An entire new section will costs money, obviously." Daniel tried to remain pragmatic about it. Even though it seemed like a really good idea, they needed to work the numbers.

"True, but it might be worth the payoff. We can pare down Health and Beauty, and Styles so we can use some space from those pages which will help reduce the added cost. And that doesn't really water down the content because often we're scrambling to fill those sections anyway."

Daniel reflected on it for a minute, looking out the large window at the back of his office onto the busy street below. It was a good thing Marc hadn't arrived in London yet. He was as much of a fashion snob as Wilhelmina and he would fight this tooth and nail. But business was business and Daniel couldn't afford to be so haughty.

He turned back toward Elaine. "Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to get Paul to crunch the numbers and see if adding another page or two would be a significant cost increase to printing.

"If we add pages we'll have more space for advertisers. And if we expand into a new demographic, we can increase our advertising base," Elaine added hopefully, a hint of excitement growing in her tone.

Daniel nodded thoughtfully and started to feel a little excited about it too; this actually might work. Just then his phone buzzed. He had no intention of answering it but he looked down at it on his desk to see if it was important. It was a text from Betty and he automatically smiled. He looked up and noticed the other two staring at him.

"Uh…sorry, I was distracted for a minute. So we were saying, if we expand into other areas, we can potentially entice new advertisers."

"Possibly. This new section might interest less affluent readers who can't afford to wear some of the high end designs. We could even target a younger age group when we select the fashions to be highlighted. There is probably an entire generation that haven't previously been bothered reading Mode because there's no way they'd ever be able to afford the fashions we currently showcase."

He thought about it further, his mind still slightly distracted by his dinner date with Betty tonight. Betty. Expanding the readership to younger and less affluent readers wasn't a bad idea, except...that was kind of Londonesque's demographic. And expanding the readership in that direction meant they would eventually expand their advertising that way as well. What Elaine was talking about was sort of muscling into Londonesque territory. He inhaled deeply. The voice of his dad was echoing in his head again and he was torn, like he was so often lately, between his desire to save the magazine and his fear of destroying what Betty was working so hard for.

Betty told him he needed to do what he could to save the magazine but mostly that was in reference to securing advertisers, neither one of them had anticipated broadening Mode's demographic. He needed more time to fully consider this and all of its implications, for _everyone_ concerned.

"Um, I'll think about it, but honestly, I firmly believe we need to stay focused on our strength which is high end fashion. And I'm not really sure about the risk of adding pages without the existing revenue to support them, especially with the magazine in its current financial state."

She nodded but was clearly disappointed. Mickey looked puzzled and suspicious. Daniel rubbed the back of his neck to release the tension in it and hoped the guilt he was also feeling was only temporary.

At the end of the meeting after Elaine had excused herself, and while Mickey was firmly entrenched in typing on his laptop, Daniel called Betty.

* * *

><p>Mickey clicked away on the keyboard, formatting and saving the notes that he'd just taken on the meeting. He was both confused and a little frustrated. Elaine's idea was a good one, with not only potential to increase sales, but ad revenue as well. Daniel had looked interested in it and then, just like that, he seemed to put the kibosh on it.<p>

Daniel slipped into his office chair with the phone up to his ear. "Hey, I got your text. Is everything okay?" There was a pause and when he responded he sounded disappointed for a second. "Oh. I thought we could go to that little place we wanted to try on the weekend but the wait was too long. No, Thai is fine. What are you going to do, right? Sometimes you just want what you just want." His face broke into a huge grin. "I don't care where we go, just as long as I'm with you."

Mickey rolled his eyes and then looked up quickly to make sure Daniel hadn't notice. He hadn't, he was swiveling his chair back and forth as he spoke, looking out the window with a pathetic, lovesick expression. The man was clearly enamored; it couldn't be more obvious if he had a cartoon cloud sticking out of his head with a picture of Betty in the centre and hearts floating around in circles.

He was so far gone it was almost cute if that Betty person wasn't so annoyingly peppy. He'd only met her a few times but he could tell she was energetic, smart, determined, ambitious and hard working. The last two were obvious; ambitious and hard working were requirements if you wanted to become a managing editor of a new publication. _A new publication...targeted to a younger, educated class of readers..._

All of a sudden the pieces were starting to fit. Elaine's arguments were smart and sound and Daniel had seemed at least partially on board with it until he'd received that text, which was obviously from Betty. Suddenly, after that, it was as if his mind had changed completely. It didn't make any sense why a text from Betty about where they were going for dinner would make Daniel change his mind about the direction of Mode, unless you consider that Betty was managing editor of her own little publication - a publication with the exact demographic Elaine was suggesting Mode needed to expand into! Daniel's change of heart had to do with Londonesque, Mickey was sure of it. He was sure of one other thing as well: Betty Suarez was Daniel Meades' Achilles heel – or at least his feelings for her were.

Mickey had done some pretty thorough research on his new boss and he knew Daniel wasn't the stupid playboy the tabloids in New York made him out to be. Meade Publications had been in some serious financial trouble a little over a year ago and he'd prevented it from going under. Based on that information, he had a desperate hope that Daniel could be counted on to do the same thing here with their magazine. He needed Daniel to be on his game with this and obviously that perky little American distracted him, or at the very least, jumbled his priorities. He needed to be reminded why he was here in the first place, and encouraged to remain focused on that. Mickey was pretty sure he knew how to assist with that.

It didn't take a genius, or more than basic pop psychology, really, to figure out what made a man like Daniel tick based on what he'd read about him. Daniel Meade was a textbook case of wealthy pretty-boy, overcompensating for lack of parental affection, and his own feelings of inferiority by sleeping with hundreds of women. Maybe he was finished with that stage of his life – he seemed to be really serious about Betty – but that didn't mean he wasn't still haunted by the same old ghosts.

He started packing up his laptop to take it back out to his desk. "So, it seems you and Miss Suarez are getting quite close."

Daniel smiled. "Yep. Things are going great." He turned back to his laptop and started clicking on the keys.

Mickey nodded. "She's obviously pretty special to you."

He stopped and looked up. "She is." That stupid smile wasn't going anywhere as long as they were talking about that overly enthusiastic New Yorker.

"She's a force, that one," Mickey shook his head. "Always full of life and energy and ideas."

"She definitely is," Daniel agreed proudly.

"She has such a strong, boisterous personality. You can't help but like her, you know?"

"Nobody knows that better than I do, believe me," Daniel assured him.

"I think it's fabulous, that you aren't threatened by that. I mean, a lot of guys would feel almost steamrolled by her enthusiasm and drive – managing editor of her own magazine at such a young age and after only a few years as an editor. She was your assistant before that, right?"

"She was. And she wasn't even an editor for a full year."

"Wow. That's quite an accomplishment, even if Londonesque is small."

"It is. I'm really proud of her."

"And I think it's great, the way you are so accommodating," Mickey added, purposely focusing his attention on gathering up some papers off of the desk so he would appear casual.

"What do you mean?" Daniel sounded puzzled.

"I mean, I know I'm just an outside observer but it seems like you stand back and allow her to shine."

"Yeah, well, I've made some mistakes in the past and I just want her to know I support her," he responded looking a little regretful as he rubbed his face.

"Of course. And obviously you do. I mean, I know it's a silly example, but look how you wanted to go to one restaurant but she wanted Thai and you just backed down without a second thought."

"Well, it's just food." Daniel shrugged.

"Sure. And I'm certain she accommodates you and supports you at times as well. I mean, a relationship that was so one-sided—"

"It's not one sided…at all," Daniel defended; the smile was gone.

He needed to tread lightly here. It wasn't his intent to offend him.

"Oh, no, of course not. I didn't mean to imply _your_ relationship was one-sided," Mickey responded innocently and apologetically. "I mean obviously, seeing you two lovebirds together, I can tell there's a great deal of respect between you. I would never assert that your relationship had that kind of dynamic where one person's personality, opinions and interests constantly outweighed the other person's. That is pretty obvious."

"Sure, of course," Daniel replied in a way that suggested Mickey had made him think a little.

Mickey could tell the wheels were spinning already and there was just one more key point to be made and he was finished.

He lowered his voice trying to sound thoughtful. "And in this enlightened day and age it's perfectly acceptable, encouraged even, for a man to step back so he doesn't stand in the way of the woman's career ambitions. It doesn't imply, at all, that one is more successful than the other if he does that. Besides, you are a shrewd businessman yourself, obviously, by the way you've stepped in here to save the magazine and have been doing a terrific job of it so far, might I add. Saving Mode - considering the state it's in - would be a very successful accomplishment in its own right, if you manage it, and something you could be very proud of. It takes fortitude and determination, and it certainly would never be accomplished by someone who would ever inadvertently be rendered…_limp_," he whispered the word for dramatic effect, "by a little bit of competition, regardless of what that competition was."

"Limp?" Daniel's brain was very obviously working in overdrive.

"You know, impotent, powerless, ineffective—"

"I understand the meaning," Daniel shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and then immediately uncrossing it and shifting in his seat again. He was very obviously uncomfortable by the suggestion and all the implications.

It was an even stronger reaction than Mickey had anticipated. He picked up his laptop and headed back to his desk. A short time later, Daniel buzzed him on the intercom.

"Mickey, Elaine and I have another meeting scheduled tomorrow at nine to flesh out the details of what we were discussing earlier. We'll need you to take notes. And can you see if Paul in accounting is available to meet with me this afternoon? I need to get him to work out some numbers for me?"

"I'll get right on it."

As he hung up the phone and looked at his watch, a small smile broke over his face - less than ten minutes. That was so much easier than he had expected.

* * *

><p>Daniel pushed the food around on his plate with his chopsticks. The pad Thai was a little flavourless and though the cashew chicken was good, it was spicy at this restaurant, and today spicy was giving him heartburn. He wasn't that hungry anyway. He was in a grumpy mood and he couldn't really pinpoint why, but the restaurant was busy in an overcrowded, noisy way that was grating on his nerves.<p>

He'd been doing a lot of thinking since his conversation with Mickey earlier in the day. It was funny how much his relationship with Betty had changed over the course of four years. Starting out with him as her boss, even though they both knew he could never have done half the things he did without her or at least without her faith in him. Then she moved into an editor role, which she did with gusto. So much gusto, in fact, that he'd been threatened by it at one point. And she'd only done the job briefly, not even a full year actually, before she was impressing people the likes of Lindsey Dunne enough that he wanted her to help run a magazine. Mickey was right, she was definitely a force. But he knew that. He'd always known Betty would shine professionally, probably even surpass him one day; she deserved to, given all the effort she put into everything.

It wasn't her professional drive that was occupying most of his thoughts though. He wasn't threatened by Betty and her success. It would be ridiculous to feel threatened by that, just because she'd worked so hard and achieved so much by the age of twenty-six. What was he doing at twenty-six? His mind drifted to beach parties in the south of France, spending copious amounts of money on alcohol, and tons of sex. _Twenty-six_. Betty was only twenty-six. He often forgot that there was such an age difference between them.

But all of that was irrelevant, because he wasn't threatened by Betty's success...definitely not. He couldn't help wonder though, if maybe, just maybe, as farfetched as it sounded, he might be easily swayed by people. There is no denying that Sophia had manipulated him. And, although he couldn't prove it, he suspected Wilhelmina may have at some point too. Not that Betty would influence him in a manipulative manner, but she did have this ability to convince him of things. Was it possible he was a bit of a pushover?

"Who do you think has the stronger personality?" He finally asked Betty the question that had been plaguing him for hours.

"What?" Betty looked puzzled.

"Between the two of us, who do you think has the stronger personality?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Why?"

"I just wondered if one of us steamrolls the other one with decisions and stuff like that. Like, is one of us…um…more in charge than the other?"

"In charge?" Betty first looked at him like his head had fallen off and then after a pause she smiled and chuckled. "If I didn't know you better I'd swear you were asking me who wears the pants in our relationship." She started laughing harder, apparently very amused by the concept.

He faked a laugh too, because, obviously this was an amusing topic to her although he wasn't really sure why.

"Gosh, you had me going there for a second. I seriously thought you were worried about it." She ended with a few small giggles.

He faked another chuckle.

She smiled sincerely and warmly. "Such an archaic notion…who wears the pants?" She shook her head grinning. "I'm glad you aren't worried about stuff like that."

"Right." He nodded but his smile had disappeared.

Why was it so wrong to wonder if he was a bit of chump in his relationships? Would Becks call him whipped?

Betty stopped with the chopsticks halfway up to her mouth and examined his expression. "You _aren't _worried about that, are you?"

"I wouldn't use the term 'worried'," he admitted quietly.

She put her chopsticks down and her expression was extremely serious. "Daniel relationships aren't about who is in charge. They're about mutual respect and compromise."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that," Daniel nodded dismissively as he stuffed his chopsticks loaded with pad Thai into his mouth.

She didn't get it. It wasn't about being in charge of the relationship it was about being his own person in it. But she didn't get that. Of course she wouldn't get it. For one thing, she _was_ her own person - working hard for something she'd dreamt about since she was young, taking a chance on it, even leaving all the people she loved behind so she could see it come to fruition. It was one of the things he admired about her. For another, she wasn't the son of Bradford Meade, and she hadn't grown up with all the expectations that went along with that, including the constant admonishing to "be a man, Daniel" and the disappointed glares when he somehow failed to live up to that. And living up to that rarely had to do with anything other than the concept his father had of what that should look like. Not to mention the insecurity that haunted him, of whether or not he really was the "dickless wonder" Alex used to always refer to him as (talk about ironic). Wilhelmina certainly thought so when they were working together, if her constant comments about the size of his balls were any indication. And Mickey today, with his comment about being rendered _limp_ made his blood run a little cold, bringing back horrible memories of the Bahamas and his failed attempt at hooking up.

The one thing he'd always counted on, in spite of Wilhelmina's ball-busting and his father's disappointment was the fact that he most definitely was a man, and half the women in New York could attest to it. Right now, he didn't even have that. Not that he wanted that anymore. Truth be told, he only wanted Betty.

So the fact that, after almost three weeks, he still wasn't sleeping with her was no help at all. Sure, he was giving her time, but he felt like she held all the cards and she wasn't _doing_ anything with them. Never, in his entire life had he been in this position with a woman. It made him feel helpless, powerless, and at someone else's mercy. Granted, if he had to be at anyone's mercy, he was sure glad it was Betty's, but even still, it wasn't a comfortable feeling. Almost as uncomfortable as that incident in the Bahamas.

"Where is this coming from? Is this because you wanted to go to that other restaurant? Because we didn't have to come for Thai, I just thought you didn't care," she said, interrupting his thoughts.

"I don't," he answered, trying to maintain indifference but acutely aware of how pouty he must sound.

"Then where is it coming from? What's wrong?" Betty examined him with that look that made him feel like she could see right through him.

Her eyes were big and concerned, and in typical Betty fashion, she looked ready to be accommodating however she could. He immediately felt a little stupid, and a lot guilty, about the whole conversation.

"Nowhere, it's nothing." He shook his head and focused back down on his meal.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He looked into her eyes so she would know he meant it.

This was ridiculous in the context of his relationship with Betty. Betty was sweet and kind – ambitious, resourceful and hardworking, sure, but not ball-breaking like Wilhelmina or his brother turned sister Alexis who still had bigger balls than he did even though Alexis had had his…or hers (the pronouns were still confusing sometimes, especially in contexts like this) removed. And the idea Betty might deliberately try to manipulate him was almost laughable. She was as guileless and genuine as anyone he'd ever known.

Nevertheless, even as he sat here and debated whether or not to tell Betty about the changes to Mode that they were thinking of implementing, he wondered if he might be a little afraid of her, or at least of disappointing her, because he was strongly swaying to the "no" side of that debate. Oh, who was he kidding? He was terrified of disappointing her. He always had been, ever since she'd given him a second chance way back after their first week together. Even when she was still newly his assistant and he was supposedly the superior, all she had to do was tilt her head to the side and utter "Daniel…" with that _tone_ and the guilt would erupt. Absolutely no one on the planet could elicit that kind of guilt from him apart from maybe his mother.

No, he definitely didn't need to tell her about Mode changing formats yet. It's not like the decision had been finalized. They might decide not to do it and he would have just opened that can of worms for nothing. He would definitely tell her if and when the decision was final.

"…so I was thinking we should, and maybe right now would be a good time." She looked at him blankly and he suddenly really wished he'd heard she wanted to do right now. "You weren't listening to me, were you?"

"Uh…sure I was."

She gave him a look. "Daniel, that wasn't even your pretending-to-listen face. Just fess up, you were thinking about something else."

"A little." He cast his eyes down to the table.

"Was it what we were just talking about?"

"No, it was nothing, honestly. What were you saying?" he asked, forcing himself to stay focused.

She looked like she was considering whether or not to press him on it. "I was saying we never spoke about Vincent's offer." Obviously she decided not to.

He nodded. "You're right. And we definitely should."

He questioned the wisdom of getting into it now, here, in the busy restaurant, but maybe that was part of her plan, it would force them both not to get too heated about it.

"Okay. Well, obviously you are not too keen on me taking it." She looked at him intently.

"Obviously," he responded bluntly.

"Even though you know nothing about it." She deliberately added to make her point.

"What's to know, Betty? You'd be taking off for months at a time. That's no way to build a relationship." He put his chopsticks on the table and grabbed his water glass. He was trying to remain calm but he could feel his blood pressure rising; he was starting to get defensive.

She eyed his movements the way she did when she was trying to take stock of the entire situation. She was definitely thinking it all through, and knowing her, reading him like a book.

"I'd get experience writing a book, Daniel," she said softly but not persuasively, more like she was thinking out loud.

"And right now you're getting experience running your own magazine. A magazine with content that has potential to really influence people and make a difference, which is something you've wanted to do since you were a little girl," he reminded her gently.

She inhaled deeply and looked thoughtful. She took another mouthful of her dinner. A part of him wanted to try and persuade her some more but he held back. If he pushed, she might get defensive herself and this might escalate instead of remaining the thoughtful conversation they both wanted it to be.

"You're right," she finally said with a single nod, after a long period of thinking.

"I am?" He was surprised with how quickly she'd agreed. "But what about it being a fabulous opportunity?"

He wanted her to agree but to sincerely agree, not that conciliatory head patting she sometimes did so she didn't upset him.

She smiled and shrugged. "It is, but I love my job here which is also a fabulous opportunity, and more importantly, I love you. You're right, taking off to travel around the world and being apart for months at a time is not the best way to build a relationship. I mean, it can be done, it's not impossible, but why make it more difficult?" She reached across the table and put her hand over his. "I think I knew that all along, I just needed time to process it."

"So…that's it? You're not taking the job?"

She shook her head. "I'm not taking the job."

"Wow. That conversation was a lot shorter and calmer than I expected."

"Well, you made a good point. I want this…us, Daniel and it'll be really hard to have this and travel for months on end. If I stay in London I can have my career and us."

He smiled, his heart was warm, and his spirits were lifted. "I am so glad to hear you say that, Betty. So does this mean you'll be calling Vincent to let him know?

She nodded. "I have to. He'll need to find someone else for the job."

"I think we should celebrate," he grinned.

He was definitely feeling better. Not only was she not taking the offer but she'd really listened to him, which confirmed what an idiot he was being earlier. They were good at this healthy relationship stuff. They really were, which meant he needed to chill about the not sleeping together thing, at least for tonight. This was Betty, when she was ready she'd let him know. For a brief second he considered talking about it right now, since they were doing so well with the communication, but he opted not to. He was suddenly in a good mood and he wanted to have fun with Betty tonight. If that conversation got personal or sensitive, which it was bound to, or if she said something about his past that he didn't take well, the evening would be spoiled and he really just wanted this evening to celebrate the fact she wasn't going to leave.

"Yeah?" Her eyes were sparkling and there was curiosity and anticipation in her tone. "What did you have in mind?"

"Hmm…well, there's a new club, one of the associate editors reviewed, a couple of blocks over…" he suggested.

"A new club?" She sounded a little disappointed and that puzzled him because Betty loved getting out and she liked to dance.

"They have live music and it's supposed to be great," he offered hopefully, but she just smiled and nodded, still looking a little baffled.


	22. Let's Talk About Sex Baby

_Thanks again and again and again for all the wonderful comments on the last chapter. _

_I wanted to post this earlier but I was away on vacation for the week and of course, typical me, as I sit stewing on it for an entire week, I end up rewriting a large section of it. Thank goodness for long road trips and laptops with functional batteries. _

_Okay, so here goes (be gentle ;) )..._

* * *

><p>Daniel wanted to yell, or fire someone. Neither option was feasible. For one, he wasn't Wilhelmina and for another, he couldn't afford to lose any other employees regardless of how incompetent he thought they were right now. Of course he didn't have to hire that photographer again, he just needed to get him back to finish this shoot properly.<p>

"What do you mean there are shadows? That's why we do lighting tests," he said fairly aggressively to Mickey who shrank back a bit, making Daniel _feel _a little like Wilhelmina.

Daniel suddenly remembered Mickey didn't know him that well yet and might take his intensity and frustration as blame. He took a deep breath to calm down and then looked back up at Mickey who was standing on the other side of his desk.

"I'm sorry, I know that this isn't your fault. This is just me venting, not blaming." Mickey nodded and seemed to relax. "Okay, we need to call the photographer and get him back in here tonight, while we still have everything for the shoot. You do that, and then call down to set design and get them to stop dismantling the set. Actually, call set design first. I'll go down and make sure the models are still around." He sighed and then he pushed his chair back to stand up. "And then I'll call Betty and tell her I have to cancel our date."

He headed down the stairs, pulled his phone out and dialed Betty. She didn't answer so he left a message.

"Hey, it's me. I'm really sorry, but there's been a screw up and we have to redo the photo-shoot tonight. I'm not going to be able to make it over to your place for dinner. Again, really sorry. Call me if you feel like telling me off," he joked.

He knew Betty would never tell him off for that. Nobody understood his situation better than she did which was why they were so perfect for each other and this relationship was so awesome, apart from the lack of sex which was definitely starting to worry him.

She'd turned down Vincent's offer and she said a big part of that was because of them, because she wanted this relationship to work. So obviously, that meant she wanted to move forward and moving forward meant taking this next step. That was another reason he was so disappointed about cancelling tonight with Betty. He was determined he was going to talk to her about it once and for all. They were supposed to have a quiet dinner at her flat; it would have been the perfect, private atmosphere to get this out in the open and find out if there was something about the idea of sleeping with him that was bothering her. Now, obviously, it was going to have to wait a little, unless he called her tonight. Yeah, he could definitely call her tonight.

* * *

><p>"Okay, so I was thinking we need to talk about something and now seems like as good a time as any. Besides, the fact we're on the phone might make this a little easier on both of us. You know, that whole honesty thing sometimes comes a little easier when you don't have to look the person directly in the eyes." Daniel sounded incredibly nervous for some reason.<p>

Betty, dressed in her pajamas, was curled up in her bed, as she spoke to him. He'd called a few minutes ago to say good-night. He did incredibly sweet things like this, so she didn't really think much of it until that particular statement.

"Oookaaay." Betty wasn't sure where this was heading but she didn't like the way it started.

She started fiddling nervously with the edge of her comforter and her stomach rolled from the nerves of where this conversation might be headed.

"I need you to know that I probably don't blame you given our history. I just…I have to know…is there, um, some reason you won`t sleep with me?"

Betty was a little stunned so she didn't respond immediately and he jumped in again before she could.

"I've been trying not to put any pressure on you and I kind of hoped you'd let me know when you were ready but I…uh…I sense you're still not ready and I wonder if it's because you're really not ready or if it's me. I know it hasn't been that long yet, and my Mom was here for a number of days, which meant we didn't get much time alone, and I want you to know that I'm still not pressuring you. It's just that we've known each other a long time and I can't help but think things have cooled off a lot since we first spoke about our feelings, and I'm wondering if, now that you've had lots of time to think about it…if, um…if you're feeling a little…." His thoughts seemed a little disjointed and Betty wasn't exactly sure what he was getting at, but he paused for a second as if to gather his thoughts and then continued plowing through. "Look Betty, I know you witnessed a pretty stupid, shallow, horndog in the time you've known me. Actually, I cringe when I think of some of the stuff you know. And I completely get that a lot of that is hard to get past. I guess I just need to know if you think you'll ever be able to…uh, get past it…eventually."

He sounded so insecure it made her heart ache. She could picture his worried expression and she would have bet money he was anxiously pacing while he awaited her response. She couldn't believe he thought it was him.

"It's not your past. Well it is, but it's not," she admitted, realizing that was probably more confusing than helpful unless she got into more detail.

She didn't really want to get into more detail. Talking about why she was insecure about sleeping with him was almost as difficult as actually doing it. Of course it kind of seemed like they were wading into that discussion and she wasn't going to be able to avoid it much longer. Her stomach rolled again.

"Right. Well that makes sense," he joked lightly.

"I kind of thought _you_ had cooled off," she admitted softly, sitting up on the bed and hugging her knees.

"Why would I cool off?" he asked as if it was the most ridiculous notion ever.

"Because…you know."

"No. I'm pretty sure I don't," he responded, seeming fairly confused about it.

She exhaled deeply and looked up at the ceiling, dreading that she was actually going to have to say it. "Gosh, this is awkward, and saying it out loud makes me feel stupid." She paused for half a second and then blurted out. "Because I'm not your type. You have a type, and I'm not it. And I kind of thought maybe you'd realized that after having a chance to think about it a little and you were a little apprehensive about us finally…uh...well…."

"I have a type?" He interrupted her awkwardness, sounding confused.

"Yes, you definitely have a type." She didn't elaborate hoping he'd clue in to what she was hinting at without her having to spell it out.

He didn't respond and Betty wasn't sure how he was reacting to that.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah."

"Are you…what are thinking?" She stretched her legs out in front of her and flopped back down onto her pillow.

"I'm thinking I didn't know I had a type." He didn't sound offended, just perplexed.

"Oh." Obviously he wasn't going to clue in on his own. There was a pause and Betty was growing uncomfortable so she filled it. "Well, anyway, you do and I'm not it and so I'm a little…insecure, I guess."

"Okay, can you elaborate on this type you think I have, that you're not, because I don't get it," he sounded sincere.

"Hot and skinny." It was better to just spit it out and hope he didn't get offended.

"Betty…"

She interrupted him because she didn't want to hear empty, conciliatory comments from him. In fact that was the last thing she wanted. "Look Daniel, you don't need to say anything…

"Betty stop." He cut her off sharply. "Why do you find it so hard to believe that someone might think you're beautiful, sexy even? You are."

"I don't find it hard to believe. I've had boyfriends before. What I find hard to believe is that someone who has spent years of his life bedding skinny models with perfect bodies would be satisfied with less than that."

And there it was, the insecure, ugly truth hanging between them almost mocking her.

"God Betty, you are not less than that. Why do you even think that?"

"I don't think _I'm_ less than that, Daniel. I know I have wonderful qualities that run a lot deeper than being a size zero. But let's face it, I'm no model."

"You're better than any model," Daniel's voice was insistent.

Betty smiled at the ceiling, warmed by a memory. "You said that before. Remember on the Brooklyn Bridge after we crashed that wedding?"

"That was a great evening. I mean, apart from being stood up by Gisele." There was silence on his end for a moment. "Actually, I guess it was a great evening _because_ I got stood up by Gisele. I can't believe you remember that."

"Like you said, it was a great evening," she responded thoughtfully.

"I mean, I can't believe that you remembered I said that."

"It makes an impact when one of New York's most eligible bachelors says you're better than the hundreds of models he's slept with," Betty admitted softly.

"Well, you are. I knew it even then, and back then I was shallow and pathetic."

"I don't think you were ever pathetic, Daniel," Betty replied sincerely. She couldn't help adding with a smile, "Shallow, definitely, but not pathetic."

Daniel chuckled. "Thanks." There was a comfortable pause before he spoke again. "You have to believe me Betty, I think you're beautiful, and sexy, every part of you and I'm not just saying that. But my wanting you goes so much deeper than that. I just want to show you how much you mean to me. I love you so much and I want to be close to you, as close as two people can be. It would be amazing to be with you like that because I already feel like I'm closer to you than I've ever been with anybody."

Betty was silent as his words sunk in and her throat tightened. She felt that way too, so why was she being so stupid? And she was being a little bit unfair, he wasn't shallow anymore. She swallowed back the emotion.

"I really wish you were here now," she said softly. "That little speech kind of makes me want to jump you."

He barked a short laugh and then said, "Cute."

"Actually I'm not really kidding," she replied seriously. She couldn't help chuckling. "It's kind of ironic that we're having this discussion on the phone and we can't do anything about it."

He groaned. "Oh Betty, don't tell me that. Do you think you can hold that thought until tomorrow?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. I hope so."

"Me too," he sounded winey but in this particular context it was almost cute. There was a brief moment of awkwardness before he spoke again. "Uh…I should go."

"Already?"

"Yeah, it's late."

"It's Friday night," Betty argued, wondering why he wanted off of the phone all of a sudden.

"It's just…um…I have something I need to do." He sounded evasive but she didn't pursue it.

"Oh…okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Absolutely."

Betty smiled and stared up at the ceiling after they hung up, feeling about a thousand times better because of their conversation. Dreamily, she closed her eyes and thought about tomorrow night. Daniel had made reservations a while ago for one of London's most talked about restaurants. She knew he was looking forward to it because he'd told her he had been wanting to go since he'd arrived in London. She sighed as she realized she hadn't yet thought about what she would wear and now she felt like their conversation had raised the bar for the date because there were no longer any barriers. She knew how he felt, he knew how she felt and it was definitely time to take this relationship to the next level.

She flipped off the covers and slipped onto the floor, padding over to her closet. She examined one outfit on a hanger and pushed it aside. She pulled another one out and held it up in front of her while she looked into the mirror over her dresser on the other side of the room…not bad. She spent the next fifteen minutes searching her closet for something appropriate before she decided on a classic blue dress. It was simple but she could dress it up with some accessories and it was fancy enough for a really nice restaurant but basic enough that she would look classy and not like she was overdressed.

She wandered out to the bathroom and examined her face under the harsh lights. She'd always liked her face, apart from her teeth. Her skin was usually clear and healthy looking, even as a teenager she hadn't been plagued with a lot of acne like many other kids. She scooped her hair back into a make-shift, scraggily ponytail to get it out of the way while she lathered her face up with a cleansing pad and then rinsed. She examined herself in the mirror again. She had such full lips she barely needed lipstick, only to add a little colour, and she never needed to line them with a pencil to give an impression they were fuller than they were. She wasn't really into cosmetics, even after four years of Mode, but she'd been observant enough in her time there to realize the painstaking lengths some of the models would go to to simulate what nature had blessed her with. She smiled and was reminded how thankful she was to have the metal out of her mouth. She grabbed her toothbrush out of the holder and continued with her routine. After the last spit and rinse, she dried her face and then turned back to the mirror. She smiled broader as her confidence swelled. She was fairly attractive…well maybe not with incredibly messy ponytail and the flannel bunny pajamas, but here she was without even any makeup and her face was fresh, her smile bright.

Just then she heard her cell phone ringing and she scurried back to the bedroom where it was on the night table. She picked it up and saw that it was Daniel. He must have finished whatever he needed to do.

"Hey Daniel," she answered.

"Hi Betty, uh…can I come up?"

"You're here?" Her stomach started flip-flopping.

"Yeah, I'm downstairs, kind of hoping you'll let me in."

"Yeah, sure. I'll open the door." She hurried out to the wall unit to buzz him in.

"Thanks. I'll see you in a minute."

She pressed the button and then looked around in a huge panic as she hung up. Her flat looked okay except for the newspapers scattered around the sofa and coffee table. She scrambled to pick them up and put them on the counter in the kitchen. Another quick glance around and then she remembered what she looked like and her panic increased. She hurried into the bedroom, pulling the elastic out of her hair as she walked. She quickly grabbed her brush and contemplated changing even though it was ridiculous because she had no time and somehow the fact he'd seen her looking a lot worse than this was no comfort at the moment. Less than three pass-throughs with the brush and he was knocking on her door. She scurried out to open it for him.

"Wow, that was quick. What did you do, take the steps two at a time?" she remarked as soon as she opened the door.

"Three actually," he said sheepishly and slightly out of breath. She couldn't help smiling, he looked so adorable.

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh…well…um…" He looked completely on the spot and Betty immediately realized how obvious the answer to that was given how their conversation on the phone had gone.

She stifled a chuckle, amused by how embarrassed he was. "Never mind, forget I asked."

"I guess it seems a little presumptuous, just showing up after our conversation," he said awkwardly.

"Ya think? Is this like a booty call of some sort?" she started teasing but she noticed his face drop and he looked like he thought he made a huge mistake. "Hey, I'm teasing."

He nodded but didn't look reassured.

"Come on in." She gestured and he took a couple of cautious steps into her flat.

She pushed the door closed and then turned to look at him.

He looked so apologetic. "I'm sorry. This was probably a stupid…"

She interrupted him by yanking him down by his jacket for the warmest kiss she could muster. He welcomed it and responded eagerly.

"I guess this explains why you rushed off of the phone so quickly," she said softly.

He rested his forehead on hers and started to smile gently. "I just couldn't stand the thought of you here all alone while I was there all alone, especially now that I know you're on board with this. I didn't want to take the chance that you might change your mind by tomorrow."

"Well, I'm glad you came," she admitted shyly, looking down and away from his eyes.

"You are?" He seemed surprised, relieved and a little thrilled and then he sobered. "Wait…do you mean that the way I hope you mean that?"

She nodded and forced herself to look at him. He searched her eyes and she felt her breath escape her.

He ran his fingers through her hair and leaned in to kiss her temple and then her cheek slowly and purposefully. "I am so glad to hear you say that Betty." His voice, a low whisper, and his breath on her cheek almost made her shiver.

For a minute she envisioned him scooping her up and carrying her to the bedroom where he'd toss her on the bed as if she weighed eighty pounds and they'd race to see who could rip each other's clothes off first. Of course in her vision she had Eva Longoria's body and she wasn't wearing flannel old lady pajamas.

"This wasn't exactly how I pictured this playing out." Her throat was dry; she swallowed but it didn't help.

"What do you mean?" He kissed her ear that time and she quivered a little.

"I mean, look at me. I kind of thought when this happened the first time it would be a little more romantic and I'd be wearing something _not_ grandma-like."

"Spontaneity _is_ romantic, don't you think?" He asked softly kissing her temple again and nuzzling his nose through her hair. "And I think you look adorable, and nothing like my Grandma." He softly kissed her cheek again. "Mmm…you smell so clean."

His lips found their way to the side of her neck and he nuzzled the pajama top to the side so he could plant a couple kisses on the top of her shoulder.

"I just want you so badly I couldn't wait. And in a few minutes I'm hoping to make what we're wearing completely irrelevant anyway."

She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. Immediately she felt his lips on her neck again, once, then a few more times, stirring a sensation so heady it made her dizzy. Before she knew what was happening he was taking her head in his hands and turning her lips up to his. He brushed his lips over hers so softly she barely felt it, and then again, equally as soft. It had a maddening effect like he was teasing her and she leaned in for a proper kiss but he pulled back and smiled wickedly. He _was_ teasing her. He leaned in again, gently brushing his lips in the most delicate, whisper kisses, on the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her eyelid, her temple, her jaw…everywhere but where she really wanted them.

"You're teasing me," she finally breathed out, exasperated.

"Would I do that?" he asked innocently, his voice low.

"I think you might, if you thought it might benefit you," she replied bluntly, looking at him intently.

He smiled, letting his guard down and that's when she pounced on him, yanking him down and capturing his lips in hers for the proper kiss she was aching for. It felt so amazing when their lips finally connected, like air after being underwater too long; she never wanted it to end.

And it didn't end for a very long time. But eventually they pulled apart ever so slightly and she said breathlessly, "Oh my gosh, that teasing trick…that's very effective."

"Almost as effective as pretending you didn't want this for three weeks," he smirked as he caressed her cheek.

"Actually, I thought you were the one pretending that."

"I guess I was but only so I didn't push you."

"I think we were both being a little silly," she admitted softly.

"As long as we're on the same page now, that's all I care about."

He leaned in again, very obvious in his intentions now. His hands roamed around her waist to her back as he pulled her close. Betty's own hands found their way under the jacket he hadn't yet bothered to take off yet and she started peeling it off of him. She freed him from it and carefully tossed it over a good several feet where it landed strategically on the back of her sofa.

"Nice shot," he grinned.

"Thanks." She started unbuttoning his shirt, walking him backward toward the hallway to her bedroom.

"This is finally going to happen, isn't it?" he practically growled as he pressed his lips into hers again not waiting for an answer; Betty just nodded. He stopped walking and whispered hoarsely, charged with desire "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you tonight?"

She found it hard to breathe. "I think I have some idea," she responded, her voice quivering.

He ran his lips across her cheek back to her ear and whispered a more detailed description causing her pulse to race even more than it already was. Her imagination was swirling, her stomach flip flopping in the very best way and her knees were weak.

She inhaled sharply and whispered, "Holy cow."

"What?" he pulled back and looked slightly anxious, like he thought he might have crossed a line.

"I was wrong before. This is the voodoo," she smirked playfully.

He grinned broadly and chuckled softly. "God Betty, you are so…" he shook his head but didn't finish. Then, suddenly he became extremely earnest. "Betty, I love you so much." He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I need you to know that this isn't just another meaningless romp."

"It wouldn't be happening if I didn't already know that," she assured him, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him backward eagerly.

"Wait." He stopped firm. "This isn't right."

Betty's heart stopped and she wondered what could possibly be wrong.

"You wanted romance." He looked around. "Do you have any candles?"

"A few in the bathroom and one in my bedroom."

"Wait here." He hurried down the hall and into the bathroom and then came out with the three small votives and disappeared into her bedroom for a second before he reappeared.

"Matches?"

Betty chuckled a little. "In the top drawer in the bathroom. I'll get them."

"No, stay there."

He zipped back into the bathroom and she heard the drawer and him rifling through it before he practically ran back to her room to light the candles.

"Okay, now we're set," he said as he approached her.

She didn't even have time for a smart retort before he scooped her up in his arms and she squealed ever so briefly, throwing her hand over her mouth as she remembered her neighbours.

"Daniel, I'm too heavy," she protested.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're tiny and light," he insisted as he carried her down the hall and into her bedroom just like she'd pictured.

* * *

><p>Some time later, while they were cuddling in her bed, her head on his shoulder, their legs entwined, a corner of the sheet the only thing covering them - the comforter long discarded on the floor in their unhindered passions - she couldn't remember ever feeling such bliss. He kissed the top of her head and she turned her face to look at him, giving him the broadest smile.<p>

"You look happy," he commented, rolling over so he was over top of her, propped up on his elbows. He pushed her hair back and examined her face.

"I'm very happy."

The flickering of the almost burnt out candles cast a soft, warm glow over the room.

"Me too. In fact, I don't think I've ever felt this happy before."

"I was just thinking the same thing," she grinned even broader.

"I'm not squishing you, am I?" he asked. She shook her head, thinking how warm and safe and loved she felt with him almost cocooning her.

He kissed her softly and then stayed there looking at her for a long time. His eyes were such a cool shade of blue, and looked so relaxed. She loved those eyes, the way they seemed to change shades with his moods.

"What?" she finally asked him.

He shook his head, "Nothing, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About how amazing this is…being with the one person who knows you better than anyone and who you know you can always count on."

She placed her hand on the side of his face. "Was this…weird?"

"Not according to my standards, and I'm not nearly as kinky as you may have heard," he joked with a soft smile.

She smiled back. "That's not what I mean. I mean because it's us, you know? The reason we met in the first place was because your dad hired me so you wouldn't sleep with your assistant. It had to feel a little weird."

"It didn't. It was the most natural…scratch that…_super_natural, phenomenal, fantastic, mind-blowing experience—"

"Okay, okay, enough with the exaggeration," Betty giggled swatting his arm playfully, and he leaned down to kiss her neck.

"I'm not exaggerating. You were not wrong about being an animal. Who knew under all that straight-laced fastidiousness you were a crazy woman? Wow." He exhaled deeply and rolled his eyes.

That immediately brought something to her mind.

"So based on that reaction, is it safe to assume you thought this experience was more scorching than tepid?" she asked biting the corner of her lower lip.

He looked incredibly amused, almost like he wanted to laugh. "Should I be filling out an evaluation form?"

"Just answer the question," she replied, feeling a little self-conscious.

"It's was definitely scorching," he assured her with a smile. "It was smoldering, sweltering, torrid…" He nuzzled her neck and she giggled. "Explain to me again why we waited so long to do this."

Betty smiled. "It wasn't that long, only a few weeks."

"I was referring to the four years before that."

"Oh my gosh, do I even need to start with the list of why it would never have happened back then?"

"No, I guess not."

"So, this wasn't even sort of strange, I mean, considering everything with your Dad?"

"Maybe if I was thinking about my dad in the moment it might have been, but I assure you, I was not," he grinned.

She couldn't help but laugh a little and add, "If you were thinking about your dad in the moment it would definitely be strange, and I'd rather not know about it."

He laughed that time.

"Okay, but seriously, what about now…afterwards?"

"Now, I'm just basking in how wonderful it was and how beautiful you are." He looked completely sincere and Betty felt herself melt just a little under his gaze. "It must be a little weird for you, though, especially given everything you've witnessed…" he faded off softly.

"Hey," she caressed his face. "That Daniel and this one are almost completely different people and I love this Daniel so much I couldn't really care less what he did before."

His face broke into the warmest smile and then he kissed her again before he rolled back over onto his back. She missed his warmth and she shivered.

"I'm a little cold," she admitted, as she snuggled closer to him.

He rubbed her arm gently. "Well, then you shouldn't have been so hasty about dismantling the bed."

"I don't think it was all me."

"No, you're probably right about that. I'll fix the covers."

He got out and pulled the sheet up tucking it so tightly into the sides she couldn't move. She giggled and then he threw the comforter on the bed covering her over completely.

"Better?" he asked mischievously from beside the bed.

She wiggled her way out of the sheet and pushed the comforter off her head. "Not really."

"What's wrong now?"

"You're not in here with me," she grinned.

"I can fix that," he smiled softly and climbed back into the bed.

He snuggled in beside her and leaned over her looking into her eyes intensely. "Betty, do have any idea how much you mean to me?"

"I think I got a pretty good indication a few minutes ago."

He smiled softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." She reached up to pull him down so she could kiss him again. "And you know what else?"

"What?" he asked, his curiosity seemed peaked.

"I think we're going to be in the dark in a few minutes when the candles burn out."

"You're not afraid to be alone in the dark with me, are you?" he teased.

"I think I like being alone in the dark with you," she smirked.

"Well I know I like being alone with you and I wouldn't care if it was dark or not," he leaned down and captured her earlobe between his teeth causing her to gasp ever so softly. "You like that," he mumbled gently, a new revelation to him.

"Yeah," she admitted softly.

"I'll remember that. It's handy information to have at my disposal for next time."

"Next time? You are very presumptuous tonight," she teased.

"Incredibly presumptuous," he murmured, kissing her neck before capturing her earlobe in his teeth again, leading her to think he was anxious for a 'next time' right now, but that had to be highly unlikely.

She pushed him back ever so slightly so she could examine his face. "Come on, I'm no expert but there is no possible way..."

He leaned down and whispered into her ear in that way she recently discovered made her weak, "Try me."


	23. Fast and Furious

Betty decided the only thing better than seeing that completely enthralled look on Daniel's face and knowing she was the source of it, was waking up in his arms after one of the most relaxed sleeps she ever remembered having. His arm around her, his slow, deep breathing on the back of her neck, the warmth of his chest pressed against her back, all of it lulled her into a semi-conscious state of complete bliss. How could one person feel so natural, so comfortable, so completely like home and at the same time stir such feelings of excitement it was intoxicating?

She inhaled deeply and heaved an extremely contented sigh. It was hard to tell what time it was by the light, or lack thereof, filtering in through the crack between the drawn shades but she could tell it was gloomy outside, probably raining – a complete contrast to the way she was feeling. She lifted her head to see the numbers on her clock – still not even seven-thirty. She pulled the comforter up over her shoulder and settled in under it, feeling about as cozy and safe as she'd ever felt.

Betty would never cheapen the feelings she had in past relationships, and she'd never downplay it like it hadn't meant anything. She'd loved Henry, pretty intensely. He was her first real love, not like Walter who she cared deeply for but realized, after Henry, mostly what she felt for him was a really deep affection and loyalty. And Matt, her love for Matt was different still. Matt she envisioned a future with, at least until the pregnancy scare which freaked her out a little…okay, a lot. But right now, with Daniel, she felt something she'd never felt before. It was difficult to define, and it was even harder to put into words, but there was definitely something unique between them, something rare and incredibly special. With Daniel she felt completely free to be herself - that trying to be anything else would be foolish anyway, because he'd see right through it. She knew she had a tendency to get a little ahead of herself in relationships so she wanted to be cautious, but everything with Daniel just felt right. She could picture a future with him; in fact, if she was honest, she never wanted to picture one without him.

Deep in her thoughts she didn't notice he was awake until she felt his lips brush softly against the side of her neck. His hand, under the covers, ghosted purposefully down her side and over her thigh. She smiled and reached down with her own hand to entwine her fingers with his as they rested on her hip. He kissed the side of her neck again, and then a few more times, before nuzzling his nose into her hair. She felt the goose-bumps rise across her entire body. He let go of her hand so he could brush her hair aside for better access to her neck before kissing it again and then he ran his hand softly over her arm back down to her hip.

"You're awake. Are you cold?" he asked softly.

"No."

"You're not? You're all goose-bumpy." He whispered to the back of her ear.

Betty closed her eyes and inhaled. His whispers had this effect on her. She wasn't sure if it was his breath on her ear, the pitch of his voice, or just the intimacy whispering suggested but she was pretty sure he could recite a bus or subway schedule and it was sound sexy if he was whispering.

"That's your fault."

"Wow. I can really get some great reactions out of you, can't I?" he said with amusement.

"Why do I have a feeling you are not just talking about the goose-bumps?" she asked shyly.

"Because I'm not," he replied bluntly and she could feel his smile on the side of her neck. "Do you think we can legitimately stay in bed all day? Maybe even lose some of these clothes?" He tugged at the big comfy t-shirt she'd thrown on before falling asleep.

"It _is_ Saturday," she replied thoughtfully, secretly hoping the same thing. "And it looks dark outside so it's probably rainy. Oh, but we have reservations at Arbutus tonight, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Well, how about we stay in bed most of the day then?"

"I think I'd like that," she smiled.

"Yeah? That wouldn't create way too much internal conflict for your overly industrious nature to handle, would it?" he teased gently.

"I think I could handle it just this once, but I have a feeling I might get hungry…or bored," she replied, waiting for his reaction.

"Bored?" He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her with disbelief and she couldn't contain her laugh.

He shook his head at her when he realized she was teasing and settled back in behind her, pulling her close. "Mmm, I'm pretty sure I could stay like this all day…all week actually."

"Maybe even all year," Betty added lightly, thinking she'd really like to say "forever" but it was definitely way too early for that.

Daniel propped himself up to look at her again. He looked so serious she wondered if maybe she'd overstepped by even going that far.

"What?" she asked feeling a little concerned about it.

He looked like he wanted to say something. "Uh…nothing." He shook his head and settled back in.

"Are you sure? Because you definitely looked like you wanted to say something."

"It was nothing that can't wait," he responded before nuzzling her neck which made her squirm and giggle.

"Stop, stop, stop." She whispered loudly through a giggle, in an attempt not to squeal.

She still hadn't determined exactly how thin the walls of the apartment were and it was still really early.

"I can't," he replied nuzzling a few more times. "I'm making sure you don't get bored."

"Wait," she gasped and he stopped long enough to let her speak. "I have a much better idea of how you can prevent me from getting bored," she smirked as she rolled over to face him.

"You do?" He grinned broadly in obvious anticipation. "I'm all ears."

"My laptop bag is in the closet by the front door. You could get it for me," she suggested with as straight a face as she could muster which wasn't very straight because she couldn't wipe the smile off of it.

He attacked immediately, pinning her to the bed and tickling her without mercy. She couldn't contain the squeal that time and that's when they heard three loud purposeful thumps from the other side of the wall. They immediately stopped and looked at one another with wide eyes before cracking up.

"Well, it's good to know that squealing can be heard in the next apartment." Betty replied softly once she stopped laughing.

"Yeah," Daniel nodded but he looked like he was thinking.

"What?"

"Well, I don't care very much because, for one, I don't live here and for another, well, I just wouldn't really care anyway, but you might…"

"I might care about what?"

"You do realize we probably kept them up last night," he lifted his hand up to his mouth to conceal his smirk.

Betty's eyes went wide and her face went hot as the realization settled in. "Oh my God. Why didn't they bang on the wall last night?"

"Maybe they did. I wouldn't have noticed, I was a little, um…preoccupied. What about you?" He started chuckling.

"Shut up." She shoved his shoulder.

"Or maybe they didn't want to interrupt…" he suggested with a shrug, but she could tell he still found all of this amusing.

"I'm glad you are enjoying this. Like you said, you don't live here," she reminded him.

"You're going to have to move because of the sheer humiliation," he teased. "I can't get you to move because of the vampires or the death trap stairwell, but the paper thin walls ought to do it."

"Funny," she replied sarcastically.

"Relax Betty, it's not a big deal." He lay back down and pulled her close. "That squeal was pretty loud. We weren't that loud last night. And who knows maybe they were occupied with their own activities and wouldn't have noticed anyway. Look, if it makes you feel better, from now on we can just stay over at my place."

She started to relax a little. "That's not very practical. We're not always going to be at your place."

"We would be if you moved in with me," he suggested casually.

Completely stunned, Betty propped herself up on her elbow to look into his face, her eyes wide and questioning. There was no way he was serious. Was there?

She must have looked as overwhelmed and terrified as she felt because he quickly said, "I was joking. It was a joke, Betty."

She examined him for any tells but couldn't find any. Three freakin' weeks of dating and he was suggesting they move in together. He _must_ have been kidding. Then again, this was Daniel.

"A bad joke, obviously." He sat up, rested his pillow against the headboard and leaned back against it.

He gestured for her to join him so she did, cuddling into his side and wrapping her arm over his torso. She tilted her head up to look at him.

"Okay, honestly…you weren't really kidding, were you?" she asked, both exhilarated and frightened by what his answer might be.

"That depends. Are you going to freak out if I say no?" His eyes were gentle but she saw a hint of insecurity in them.

"Daniel, we've been dating three weeks. It's ridiculous to think of moving in together." She was rationalizing because it seemed the most logical response to such a crazy, out of the blue proposition, even though her heart skipped a beat at the idea.

"Is it? We've known each other for four years Betty. We're not strangers."

"This was our first night…you know…together," she reasoned, sitting up so she could see his face and read his expressions better.

"And it was amazing and I want to do it every night, which is much more convenient if you're living with me," he smirked.

How did he take this so lightly? He asked her as if he was asking her to go to the movies. To Betty this was HUGE - like a massive commitment, new stage of their relationship, type of huge. Maybe it didn't mean the same thing to him. And what would her family say?

"Papi would probably kill me," she said softly, the thinnest ray of hope making her wonder if this might be possible and not completely insane.

"Fair enough. And he might even kill me too," Daniel smiled.

"Oh, he'd definitely kill you," she replied adamantly, certain of it.

"Really? I think your dad likes me."

"I have no doubt my dad loves you, but you've never incurred his wrath by suggesting his youngest daughter move in with you after only dating for three weeks. And despite all the kitchen knives, with Papi 'killing' is less about blood and gore, and much more about intense disappointment that weighs on your very soul for all eternity. Or at least until you remedy the situation."

Daniel raised his eyebrows as if he'd just discovered something. "Ahh, so that's where you get it from."

She tilted her head to the side and glared at him.

"Just an observation," he replied with a sheepish shrug.

"So maybe we should table this idea for a few weeks, at least. I'm not saying outright 'no', I just think we need to think about it for a bit." That was the responsible, pragmatic thing to do.

He nodded.

"You're not upset are you?" she asked cautiously.

"No. I mean, I really want you to, but I know it was an impulsive, out of nowhere proposition."

She nodded. "No kidding. At least you didn't ask me to marry you," she chuckled, her own joke very amusing to her.

He chuckled too. "How ridiculous would that have been?" he agreed, shaking his head at the idea.

"Totally ridiculous," she concurred, laughing harder.

* * *

><p>After spending most of the day in bed, a reluctant Daniel finally, and only after Betty's cajoling, took a cab back to his apartment so he could get changed for their diner date. About two hours later he returned to pick her up.<p>

When Betty answered the door he handed her a huge bouquet of gerbera daisies.

"Oh my gosh, these are beautiful," she practically squealed as she went into the kitchen to put them in a vase. "How did you know they're my favourite?" she raised her voice so he could hear her out by the door.

"Come on Betty, I've known you for four years. I…uh…I pay attention," he said sounding just a little bit evasive about it.

She poked her head around the corner and looked at him suspiciously. "Okay, I love you and everything and I know you have some wonderful qualities, but I know for fact you don't pay attention."

"Alright, I texted Justin again," he admitted looking a little embarrassed.

Betty chuckled and then finished with the flowers before returning to the living area.

"Well, that was very thoughtful but you'd better watch it with the texting Justin. You're going to owe him big time." She walked over to him. "You look great," she smiled, placing her hands on his chest and looking up at him in his dark suit and blue shirt and tie that made his eyes look an even deeper shade of blue than normal.

He raised his eyebrows curiously at her affection. "Thanks. You look pretty great too." He pulled back a little and the way he assessed her in her blue dress made her feel shy all of a sudden. "We match."

"We do…well, different shades. Mine is sapphire and yours is more of a steel blue," she noted.

He hid a smile but not very well.

"What?" she asked him, puzzled by his expression.

"Listen to you, and you don't even work at a fashion magazine anymore. Four years ago you would have called them light and dark."

"Well, they are light and dark," she defended. "And four years ago I wouldn't have been wearing one solid colour, and your only concern would have been whether or not that shirt made your eyes pop."

"It does make my eyes pop," he grinned confidently.

He wrapped his arms around her and bent down to kiss her. It was warm and soft, and immediately filled Betty with heady thoughts about later. She slid her hands from his chest, under his suit jacket, encircling him and pulling him closer, the feeling of his hard muscles under her fingers stirring some intense sensations. And he smelled so good too. He was wearing the cologne she was so familiar with, but just enough of it that she had to be close, practically touching, to get the full effect; it was almost more than a girl could handle. She melted into him, forgetting for a moment that the plan was to go out for dinner_._

He pulled back slightly when the kiss was done and examined her face which was already warm and growing warmer under his gaze.

"Wow, that was..." He cleared his throat. "…really nice. We should get going - the reservations, remember." He brushed the back of his hand across her face. "You look warm. Are you okay?"

Betty flushed even more, embarrassed that she let herself get that carried away by a little kiss. "I'm fine."

"You're all red," he said with a little concern. "Are you sure—"

"Daniel I'm fine, let's get going," she interrupted, hoping to get him off the topic.

He looked puzzled but like he was thinking it through, "So why are you…" his eyes widened a little and she saw a smile forming at the corner of his mouth. "So do you mind telling me why you are all…uh, flushed?" he asked with a mischievous smirk.

"It's hot in here, that's all," she replied matter-of-factly.

"It's not that hot in here."

"You've only been here a few minutes. Come on, let's not make a big deal of this," she implored, grabbing her purse.

He gently grabbed her hand, preventing her from moving toward the door, and looked very amused. "I think you're flushed because that kiss reminded you of last night…and that other time last night, and this morning's two times, and this afternoon—".

"Okay stop," she swatted him on the arm, but despite her flaming face she had to smile.

He pulled her close and said softly, "If it makes you feel any better, I can't stop thinking about last night either."

"No?" she asked shyly.

He shook his head and then he leaned down and kissed her warmly and deeply, removing any last desire Betty had for going out for dinner. She dropped her purse and then ran her hands down the front of his shirt and slid a few fingers in between two of the buttons so she could feel his chest. He exhaled loudly and walked her back up against the wall, pinning her between his arms.

"How come you can get away with that when we're all dressed up to go out, but I can't?"

"I don't have any buttons," she retorted with a soft smirk.

She undid one of the buttons so she could slide her entire hand in and over the muscles of his chest.

"Total double standard." he murmured, kissing the side of her head.

Betty felt him slide his arms around her back and fiddle, searching for the zipper of her dress. Once he found the top of it he expertly slid it down in one smooth movement.

"Our dinner reservations – you've been waiting for three weeks," she reminded him.

"It's just dinner and suddenly I'm not hungry anymore. Besides, I have to even out the playing field – if you're allowed to fondle my chest I think it's only fair…" He leaned down and kissed her neck before pulling back slightly. "I'm sorry, I guess it would be polite for me to ask if you're hungry."

Betty could hardly form words so she just shook her head. She wanted to pull him closer, to feel his muscular frame against her soft curves so she stood on her toes, and snaked her arms around his back so she could pull him in. He lost his footing and fell forward, his firm body pressing her against the wall.

"Sorry," he broke from the kiss to apologize, and stood up straight again.

"Don't apologize, I kind of liked it," she admitted, reaching up eagerly to bring his lips back down to hers.

"You do realize we're at your apartment again. What about the neighbours?" he asked the next time they broke from kissing.

"It's a little late to worry about that now, after this morning, and this morning again, and this afternoon," she smirked.

"You are going to get such a reputation," he teased before capturing her lips soundly, eagerly, desperately.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Betty pushed him back a little.

"What?" He was stunned and dismayed.

"We have reservations at Arbutus. It's so hard to get into. We can't just not show up, we'll be blacklisted."

He sighed and stood up straight. "You're right." For a moment Betty thought he'd decided they should go and she tried to stave off her disappointment by reminding herself that they had all night, but then he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and fiddled with it.

"Hi, this is Daniel Meade. I have reservations tonight for seven thirty. I'm really sorry for the late notice but my date is sick and we won't be able to make it." He smiled slyly at her. "Thank you, I appreciate it." He hung up. "All taken care of. She said she hopes you're feeling better soon."

"I suspect I will be," Betty grinned.

"Oh yes, you definitely will. Very soon," he assured her, as he bent down to kiss her again.

* * *

><p>Monday at work Daniel managed to read and compose a few emails and even type up a first draft of his Editor's letter for the upcoming issue before drifting off in thought as he gazed out the window. He smiled and then slowly brought his coffee up to his mouth and took a sip. This weekend with Betty was amazing. The connection they had, the friendship, the intensity of emotions, the fun, the playfulness - in bed and out of it - all of it just made him realize, even more, how badly he wanted this.<p>

God, but he was such an idiot with the whole "we would if you moved in with me" thing. Not because he didn't mean it, on the contrary, but he should have realized it would freak Betty out. He sighed and the smile faded slightly. At least he'd stopped himself just before that from…from what exactly? He wasn't sure what he was going to say in that moment when she'd said she could stay like this for a year. He wasn't exactly going to propose, because even caught up in the moment he knew Betty deserved more than him impulsively blurting out "spend the rest of your life with me", but he was definitely about to say something along those lines – some declaration of eternal devotion and obviously she wasn't quite ready for anything so heavy.

Daniel was self-aware enough to know he did things a little on the impulsive side. How long was he with Renee before they were talking about moving in together? Not long enough, obviously, because he hadn't realized she had some pretty serious emotional and psychological issues. And Sophia…he didn't need to rehash that in his brain. Molly was different. He proposed quickly and married quickly because they really had no other option if he wanted to give that to her while he could.

But this situation wasn't like any of those. This was Betty, and it didn't feel impulsive or crazy or rushed, like it had those other times; it felt…right. Sure, this aspect of their relationship was new but their relationship wasn't new – they'd known each other for years. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind where this was heading. The real question was, how long would it take to get there? Nobody knew him like she did and he never, ever wanted anyone to. She was his best friend, he knew he could count on her, and they had so much fun together. Plus it wasn't all that new romance, rose coloured glasses stuff. He already knew her insecurities and the things that would drive him crazy like that intense stubbornness, or that judgy look and tone when she was disappointed in him. She knew that kind of stuff about him too. They didn't need to wait to figure this stuff out. In fact the more he thought about it, the crazier it seemed to wait. It was like wasting time. Of course, just like the sex, he needed to be patient because obviously Betty wasn't on exactly the same page and judging by her expression when he suggested she move in, pushing too quickly toward this would frighten her. And the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. He wanted to do this right and he definitely was not going to mess it up by doing something stupid.

Moving in together seemed like a good start. It was practical - her apartment still kind of made him uneasy with the bad lighting and the sketchy neighbours. He was being completely honest about wanting her to spend every night with him and her apartment was smaller, farther from both of their offices; it just made sense.

He needed to give her a bit of time though. She didn't flat out say "no" so that was a good thing, and she was obviously really considering it – another good sign. But he was going to drop it for now and just be thankful it didn't completely spook her.

* * *

><p>It was as if their first night together unleashed a beast, in both of them. Betty wanted to be with him every minute she could, and he seemed to feel the same, so they saw each other every night that week. Welcomes became increasingly steamy and their Arbutus dinner was not the only one they missed; dinners they did end up eating became increasingly short, if they finished at all, and much to both Daniel and Betty's surprise, he'd even been able to persuade her to take an extra long "lunch" at his loft one afternoon. She was happy that her worry about their love life being tepid was unfounded, but now, if she was honest, she was a little concerned they were the other extreme.<p>

"Do you think we're sex fiends?" she asked him, completely seriously, as she lay against his shoulder the following Sunday evening at his loft, after their particularly "busy" weekend together.

"I really hope so." He smiled broadly, completely relaxed, and slipped his free arm behind his head.

"I'm serious, Daniel," she put her hand on his face and turned his head to make him look at her. "Do you realize how many times we've had sex this week?"

"I wasn't really keeping track, were you? Because that kind of sounds like something you might do. Like an ongoing tally you'd keep in a journal somewhere, so you could keep track of what works and what doesn't, with little notes like 'Daniel was really on his game on Wednesday', followed by a little heart, or maybe two if it was particularly memorable," he smirked, teasing her.

"The exact number isn't the point," she replied, ignoring his teasing. "We missed a dinner you'd been looking forward to for three weeks." She whispered the next part because she could barely stand to admit it out loud. "I told everyone at work I had a lunch meeting so I could meet up with you for an 'afternoon delight'...me, Daniel."

"That was a delightful afternoon," he admitted, turning his face back to the ceiling and staring off into space with a dorky grin, looking like he was reliving it in his head.

"Okay, stay with me here," she urged, so he turned to look at her again. "We skipped meals so we could…you know. I never skip meals. And now, we've just spent almost the entire weekend in bed and only got out of it so we could eat."

"At least we didn't skip any meals." He was still smiling, obviously not bothered by this in the slightest.

"This doesn't concern you, even a little?"

He rolled over so he could face her, cupped her chin in his hand and gave her a quick kiss.

"Betty, sex with you is incredible. It's not news to you that I've had lots of sex - loads of sex with reams of partners…"

Betty cringed and held up her hand, turning her head away slightly. She did not want or need to be reminded of this fact, particularly right now. "Daniel, make your point, please."

He pulled her hand down and gave her an understanding smile. "My point is, it's never been like this."

She gave him an incredulous look.

"I'm serious." He looked desperate for her to believe him. "Maybe you don't know this from personal experience but it's a thousand times better when you love someone. It's not just sex it's so much more than that."

She smiled gently. "I get it."

"Do you?" He searched her eyes with his and she felt it deep in her chest. "Because I've never felt this way before and I'm not just talking about the sex. Nobody has ever had this ability to see me, really see me, the way you do. God Betty, I feel like something was missing my whole life and I never even realized it until I experienced what it was like to be with you."

She could see the vulnerability in his eyes and it made her heart ache. She put her hand up to his temple and ran it gently through his hair, behind his ear and back down to rest on his neck. Betty felt the prickly sensation behind her eyes half a second before they filled up.

Daniel looked stunned and a little upset. "Are those…what kind of tears are those?" he asked, sounding worried.

Betty smiled through them and shrugged. "I'm just touched, I guess."

He pulled her close to comfort her and she tucked her face into his neck, letting the tears fall freely.

"I was supposed to be making you feel better about all the sex and now you're crying. Obviously I'm not very good at this. Let me try this again." He cleared his throat and then he started again, his tone completely upbeat. "Betty, sex with you is incredible. Why wouldn't we want to do it all of the time? So we're missing a few meals. There are worse things."

Betty chuckled softly at his humorous attempt to cheer her and she felt him give her a little squeeze.

"We're just going a little crazy because this is new, too. It's perfectly normal to be all over each other at first. You've been in relationships before, you know that," he offered to make her feel better.

"Sure…" she replied hesitantly as she wiped her face dry; she didn't remember feeling quite this sex crazed with either Matt or Henry and certainly not with Walter.

He pulled back and examined her face. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Yeah…of course." She tried to shrug it off but he didn't buy it and gave her a look that told her so. "Well, not exactly like this," she admitted softly.

A small smile graced the corners of his mouth. "Really? So I bring out the crazy woman in you."

She smiled now, amused by his delight. "I suppose you could say that." She had to admit Daniel definitely brought out a side of her she'd never experienced before.

"I am definitely saying that," he determined proudly. "Okay, so how about we don't stress about how much sex we're having, because frankly, I'm really enjoying it. You can't honestly think our relationship is unhealthy because of this?" he questioned looking at her intently.

"I guess not," she shrugged, starting to feel better.

"Betty, we've spent four years building all the other stuff and now, finally, our libidos get to catch up. That's all this is. I love the fact you can't keep your hands off of me."

She had to admit he had a very good point so she determined to relax about it. Besides, it was kind of fun if she didn't analyze it too much.

"She snuggled closer and kissed his neck and then his chin. "I really can't, you have this effect on me," she admitted with a whisper.

"Yeah?" He seemed to really like that. "Well, I can't keep my hands off of you either," he whispered back. "I have to admit, I feel like a little kid who lived in the same house for years and then one day he discovers a playground right in his own backyard that he never knew was there before - a beautiful, bountiful playground." His eyes scanned her face, down her neck and landed, interestingly enough, on her breasts. "And now he doesn't want to stop playing in his playground, ever, not even to come in for supper."

Betty pulled back, stunned and a little appalled. "Did you just refer to my breasts as your 'bountiful playground'?"

Daniel looked confused, like he realized he said something maybe he shouldn't have but couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was. "Uh…not… _just_ your breasts…" he said, stilted and uncertain, trying to back pedal.

She smacked him on the shoulder and shook her head at him but she couldn't help laughing a little.

"But for the record, I totally respect you and love you for your personality and intellect too," he grinned cheekily.

"That sounds, and looks, a lot like you are trying to placate me," she accused him suspiciously.

"Does it?" he asked with that feigned innocent tone and expression she was too familiar with.

"Yes. It definitely does," she decided with a nod. "And, by the way, I totally respect you and love you for your personality and intellect too." She grinned back at him.

"Really?" He sounded disappointed. "I was hoping you'd just keep using me for my body for a little while longer," he smirked before pulling her up tightly against him and making her forget all about this particular conversation or anything, really, apart from how good it felt to be in his arms.


	24. First Day Jitters

_Thanks again, everyone, for taking the time to review. It's nice to know there are still readers even though I've dragged you along for a whopping 5 months (can you believe it?). I assume if you're still reading, you are still enjoying, otherwise I presume you would have just given up. I'm pushing us ahead in the plot but I'm so torn as I do, because the further we get, the closer we are to the end and that kind of makes me sad. _

_Disclaimers: The opinions expressed here are solely those of the characters and do not, in any way, reflect those of the author. (For some reason I always feel a profound need to apologize for Marc and Amanda when I write them...no offence intended, I'm just trying to keep them in character) ;)_

* * *

><p>Marc exited the elevator on the seventh floor and stepped into the office, critically examining the décor of his new work-home and the place he'd be spending most of his life over the next several months. ModeUK didn't have the budget of the one in New York and his brain had conjured up all sorts of pathetic images of what the office might look like, with the help of the odd comment from Wilhelmina (who had visited once) about how abhorring the decor was. There were also all those rumours of the magazine being in financial trouble. Somehow, he'd imagined dingy, tacky furniture and broken office chairs duct taped together because they couldn't afford to order new stuff.<p>

Instead, what he saw was a modern, black, semi-circular reception desk, situated in what appeared to be an atrium, with a large open staircase directly behind it, leading up to the eighth floor. The office was decorated in shades of black, light grey and white with the striking colour of the artwork on the wall, providing a complete contrast to it. To the right of the desk was a waiting area with modern black leather furniture, a coffee machine and a table filled with past issues of Mode ready for perusal.

The reception area was bright with potted, leafy trees of some sort on either side of the staircase tall enough to reach the second level. Marc had to look twice at the large rectangular lights on the ceiling of the eighth floor to determine if they were, indeed, skylights. But Mode wasn't even on the top floor so of course they weren't.

It wasn't even nine in the morning and already the bustle had started. There were about three visitors sitting in the reception area reading past issues of Mode, a gaggle of emaciated women standing near the railing on the second floor overlooking the atrium – obviously models awaiting their instructions - and one pathetic peon clambering down the stairs behind someone more important, frantically scribbling notes as the individual spoke. He smiled, imagining himself now in the elevated role since Daniel had promised him an assistant.

The office was considerably smaller in size than the office in New York but elegant and impressive, not that he'd let Daniel know that, of course. He enjoyed milking the idea that he and Wilhelmina were doing Daniel a favour by Marc taking the job he'd offered, although now that he was here he was realizing that wasn't exactly the case. He smiled broader and started getting excited. This definitely had potential.

A woman in her twenties walked past and he shuddered a little at the fashion style - it was almost a little Suarez-esc with a plaid skirt. Seriously, plaid? And she had made an attempt to match it with some sort of, _thing_, on her head. She was wearing a simple red top that looked almost silk though, so that took the hideous down a notch. And she was cute – skinny, tall, long legs, nice features. Her hair could use some work though; what he could see of it from under that hat looked dry and frizzy. Certainly she'd be fodder on a boring day but she wasn't nearly as ridicule worthy as the tubby tamale he'd come to know and love. Although he had to admit that lately, since Betty had actually started to care about her appearance a little, there hadn't been as much to make fun of. It didn't stop him from trying though, and he definitely enjoyed trying. He sighed wistfully, missing Betty. Hopeful he'd get to see her today not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, even under threat of death.

He approached the reception desk.

"I'm looking for Daniel Meade's office," he said to the receptionist, who reminded him a little of Mandy. She was skinny, blonde, attractive and stylish - the face of Mode to anyone entering the office. "I'm Marc St. James the new Senior Fashion Editor."

"Oh yes, Mr. St. James, sir," she replied and Marc practically swooned with joy at the level of respect she was affording him. "Mr. Meade said to send you right up when you got here. If you go up the stairs behind me, his office is on the right." She gestured up the staircase.

"Thank you." Marc followed the instructions, walking around the desk and up the open staircase.

Immediately at the top of the stairs on the right-hand side there was a large desk with a door behind it that had Daniel's name on it. A young, attractive, well-groomed man sat behind the desk clicking away on his keyboard.

He noticed Marc at the same time his phone rang and he answered it, putting his index finger up to Marc to defer him for a minute.

"Daniel Meade's office." There was a slight pause and then a little effeminate laugh out of him. "Mais bien sur, Monsieur Gaultier. Il attend votre appel. Une moment, s'il vous plait." He clicked a button "Jean-Paul Gaultier is on line one, Daniel."

He turned his attention to Marc. "May I help you?"

"Hello, I'm Marc St. James, here to see Daniel. You must be his assistant. I was told he was expecting me."

The young man examined Marc from head to toe, as if he was critically assessing him and then he turned to look at the calendar on his computer to see if there was an appointment. Marc bristled a little at his nerve. Surely Daniel told the man he was coming and to let him in when he arrived, but he was doing his best "gatekeeper" persona to remind Marc that he could either make it easy for him or difficult depending how well he liked him. He knew it well. He'd used it many times himself with people coming to see Wilhelmina.

Marc exaggerated a frustrated sigh. "There isn't an appointment. I'm the new _Senior_ Fashion Editor. I'm starting today, from Mode New York." He said it with as much condescension as he could muster, and he could muster a lot, particularly for this guy.

"Ooooh." The assistant intoned as if he just made the connection and then started gushing so artificially that it couldn't be missed. "I'm so sorry Mr. St. James. Of course, the new _fashion_ editor. I didn't realize who you were. It must have been that combination of pocket hanky and tie with that shirt that threw me." He gave a distasteful look at Marc's outfit and then a dismissive wave.

Marc gasped, a small, high pitched squeak escaping with it. He immediately looked down at his outfit, completely astounded, and tried to assess if there was any validity to the comment. He relaxed a little. Of course there wasn't, he was obviously just trying to get a reaction.

He looked back up at the assistant. "Snap! You are very sassy, especially for someone who spends his days getting coffee for other people. But I must say, you have exquisite taste in vests, if not shirts and ties." He eyed the man's forest green vest with approval. "Witty, bold, well dressed, and good looking, with just a hint of mean...you remind me of someone." He examined him for a moment trying to place him and then shook his head and shrugged; he couldn't figure out who but he supposed it didn't really matter, he was endearing anyway. "I think I'm going to like you. Call me Marc." He held his hand out in greeting.

"Mickey Mouson." Mickey took his hand and shook it.

Marc looked at him oddly trying to assess if he was joking.

"No, I'm not kidding. My parents have a delightful sense of humour," Mickey said sarcastically.

"Hmm," Marc intoned thoughtfully and then he leaned in to whisper, "My last name was Weiner before I changed it. I was a very fast runner in high school."

"What a coincidence, me too," Mickey responded enthusiastically.

The two shared a knowingly smile, cementing the new bond.

Mickey looked down at the phone. "It looks like Daniel's call is finished; I'll let him know you're here."

In less than a couple of seconds Daniel was enthusiastically opening the door.

"Marc! Come on in."

Marc entered Daniel's office and took a seat in the chair opposite his large oak desk. His office was much more traditional than the office in New York, with actual walls and contemporary wooden furniture, not glass.

"So you made it. How was the flight?" Daniel asked as he took his seat across from him.

"Long," Marc responded trying to sound bored.

"And where's your wife?" Daniel teased.

"She's getting us settled in the mouse hole you found for us."

"It's a perfectly nice apartment, Marc, in a great neighbourhood, close to everything."

"It's small," he complained.

"It's London, appartments are expensive. And it's not like your apartment in New York was palatial."

"Especially when there were inconsiderate house guests, taking up even more space," Marc raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"Yeah, about that. I'd appreciate it if maybe you didn't bring that kind of stuff up anymore - you know, the whole Amanda and me situation - particularly around Betty."

"It bothers the furry one, does it?"

"Yeah. No. Well, I don't know. She doesn't want to talk about it."

"I'd say that would be your first clue," Marc commented as if it was obvious. "So how is your _lovah_, anyway?" he asked, just so he could call her that.

"She's good, great actually," Daniel replied with a stupid, cheesy grin.

"Aww, you know, calling her that is not nearly as fun now that's it's true," Marc observed with disappointment and a pout, the realization of it setting in. "Ugh…and wipe that ridiculous grin off of your face. What are you fourteen and you just had your first experience?"

"You are sounding more and more like Wilhelmina every day." Daniel shook his head like he could hardly believe it. "She would be so proud. And for your information, I feel like that with Betty because the sex is so amazing," he smirked, obviously hoping to elicit a reaction.

Marc wanted to disappoint him, he really did, but he couldn't, the notion was too vile.

"Oh my God! Please spare me any details. The images are too disturbing and unnatural. It's a little like watching your prize-winning Golden Retriever trying to mate with the neighbour's guinea pig." Marc envisioned it for a second and said with a shudder, "Actually, it's a lot like that."

"I think I liked it better when you were afraid of me," Daniel commented, seemingly puzzled by Marc's boldness.

"When was _that_?" Marc asked, completely confused as to why Daniel ever thought that.

"You know...when you were my assistant."

Marc barked a short laugh and gave his head a rueful little shake. "Oh Daniel, Daniel, I was never _afraid_ of you. You are not exactly the fear instilling type. Wilhelmina instills fear and downright awe. You, on the other hand, you instill…" The word "pity" was on the tip of his tongue but he looked up and saw Daniel's questioning face and remembered he was still the one who issued the paycheques. "Uh, you instill collaboration and loyalty."

Daniel smiled and nodded. "That makes sense."

"Anyway, maybe I sucked up a little but that's because that is what assistants are supposed to do. But now I'm your Fashion Editor, and let me remind you that you hired me for my opinions."

"Your opinions on fashion, not my relationship." Daniel replied. "Alright, well enough small talk. Let's get you set up," Daniel said ignoring Marc's comment.

"Speaking of 'setting up', you're assistant is cute." Marc sat up just a little straighter, happy to have this new, much more acceptable image in his head.

"Hands off, Marc. You're going to be working together; that would complicate things."

Marc's jaw dropped. "Seriously Daniel? _You_ are going to lecture _me_ about office hook-ups? He's not even _my_ assistant. Sheesh, Betty's goody-goody nature certainly is rubbing off on you."

Daniel's smirk was almost fiendish. "It must be all the rub—"

"Do not finish that!" Marc yelled, throwing his hand in the air and stopping him mid-sentence. "I'm not joking, my sensitivities are too sensitive."

Daniel showed Marc around the office, introduced him to a number of people and finally took him to his office. It was a lot like Daniel's only a little smaller. He even had an assistant. Not actually his very own assistant, she helped a couple of the editors. Still, it was something and definitely a step up from Junior Fashion Editor in New York. Daniel even had business cards made up for him already because he'd said there was no time to waste. A couple of times he caught himself just before he outwardly displayed too much enthusiasm. He didn't want Daniel to think he was too excited about this yet.

Marc hit the ground running. Immediately after getting all the paperwork organized with human resources and the getting set up with his new laptop and passwords and everything else, he threw himself into getting up to speed on exactly what was required out of him for the next couple of weeks, and what needed to be done for the next issue.

* * *

><p>"So are you up for dinner?" Daniel asked Betty on the phone near the end of the day.<p>

"Sure. Actually, I was thinking it might be nice to get together with Marc and Amanda if they're feeling up to it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Daniel shrugged even though she couldn't see him. "I don't know. I guess I thought you might feel awkward about it."

"About seeing Marc and Amanda?" Betty intoned it like it was the most ridiculous thought ever, which completely confused Daniel.

"Well, not so much Marc, but Amanda…yeah." Daniel thought this was obvious. "Betty, you practically freaked out when I said I was buying her a ticket."

"I did _not _freak out." She was adamant. "I got upset because you bought Amanda a ticket from New York when it seemed wiser to hire someone local. But since she's here, I'd love to see them."

Daniel didn't respond immediately. That wasn't exactly how he remembered the conversation going.

"Daniel, are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm confused Betty. I kind of thought the whole thing with Amanda made you…uh….insecure."

"I told you I wasn't insecure. I didn't particularly want to be reminded of your shallow "casual thing" but I'm not insecure about it."

"You're not?" He asked it skeptically.

"No, I'm not. Can we stop dwelling on this?"

"Okay. But you do realize what we're getting into going out for dinner with them, right? Marc has no social filter and Amanda is both clueless and blunt with no clear concept of respectable boundaries. And they are both incredibly nosy, and gossipy."

"Amanda and Marc?" Betty responded with feigned surprise causing him to smile. "It'll be okay."

"No. No, I'm pretty sure it won't but if you insist on this then just prepare yourself."

It turns out it wasn't an issue anyway because Marc and Amanda weren't really feeling up to it that evening and they decided to reschedule for another time. Not that Daniel was particularly upset about it; he wasn't really too keen on mixing it up with them now that he and Betty were together. There was no good that could come of that. Amanda, in her clueless way would probably casually mention something about their time together as "fun buddies" or ask a bunch of questions of Betty about what moves of his she liked or didn't and that, inevitably, would not be received well by Betty who would suck it up and smile while in public but take it out on him in some passive aggressive, ticked-off state later that evening. Did she withhold sex when she was pissed off the same way she had withheld those cinnamon twists when she had been his assistant? And if so, for how long? In any case, he was perfectly content to keep that particular can on the shelf and the worms inside of it for a little while longer.


	25. Tips and Tricks

Mickey hated a messy file system; it drove him crazy. So in a rare spare moment right after he'd finished his lunch he started reorganizing the file cabinet behind his desk. Daniel was in a meeting and he'd finished gathering the information on some freelance writers that Daniel had asked him to collect so the time was all his. He'd dug out the file folders, one drawer at a time and was rearranging stuff to its proper order. He'd discovered in the past few weeks that Daniel was notorious for putting stuff back in the wrong place.

"Hey Mickey, is Daniel busy?" Betty's voice from behind startled him and he looked up quickly from where he was filing, and spun around.

She was standing on the other side of his desk in a cute navy, yellow and white skirt with a bright yellow shirt underneath her dark jacket. She had an adorable yellow cloche hat on her head too. Her taste in fashion certainly wasn't his; she was definitely whimsical in her choices and sometimes the pairings made him cringe, but other times it just seemed to work. Today was one of those "other" times.

"Very cute outfit," Mickey commented sincerely.

She looked down a little self-consciously, like maybe she wasn't sure he was sincere, and certainly like she wasn't expecting to hear a compliment from him but after examining his face and realizing he wasn't jesting, she broke into a huge grin. "Thanks."

"He's meeting with Elaine." Mickey looked down at his watch and noted how long she'd been in there. "I don't think it'll be much longer. Are you two going for lunch?"

"Yeah. Probably just downstairs though. We both have a lot to do today. You look busy."

"Ugh...just reorganizing. Daniel's been in the files again." He decided not to elaborate further; it was probably wise not to complain about your boss to his girlfriend, and he wondered if even saying that much was too much.

Surprisingly though, Betty just chuckled. "Oh my gosh, I swear he just opens the drawer and throws it in. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even look at the labels." She leaned in a whispered. "A little word of advice, just don't let him near it."

Mickey looked up confused, wondering how on earth he could get away with that. She must have read his expression. She walked away, grabbed an empty tray off a nearby cabinet and then came back and put it on his desk.

"Get bossy with him and tell him to return anything he takes into here and then you can make sure he's not messing with your system."

Mickey looked at her skeptically.

"Trust me. It'll save you hours of work. Just be forceful so he knows you mean business." She bent down and whispered again. "It helps if you give him the evil eye when you catch him in the files. He hates the evil eye."

"Thanks," Mickey replied with a weak smile.

"No problem. I'm just going to wait here." She gestured to the empty chairs against the side wall and Mickey nodded before continuing with his clean up.

He was so engrossed in what he was doing he didn't notice her phone had rung until she started speaking.

"Betty Suarez," she answered. "Hi Mr. Dunne." There was a pause before she spoke again with a lot of enthusiasm. "Oh my gosh, you're kidding? This Thursday? That's fantastic. Huston Wines is huge; it would be amazing to secure them." She paused again for a fairly long time while she listened. "Really? Well, if you think I should. Thank you, that means a lot to me Mr. Dunne. I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate your confidence in me." She listened again and then laughed a little. "Yeah. I have the address and phone number in my contacts list. Actually, I put all the addresses of those prospective advertisers in my contacts, just in case. Oh, I almost forgot, I've have another list of potential advertisers. I was just drafting up and email to send a copy to you." Again she listened and then responded modestly, "Well, it's just that this is important to me so I've been doing some research whenever I get a moment." She smiled broadly as the other person spoke. "Thanks, I'll talk to you later."

Mickey looked over curiously.

"My boss," she explained, holding up her phone. "He thinks if some of the big potential advertisers get the vision of the magazine they'll be sold on it. I can't believe he wants me to go with him and do the presentation! He says if it's coming from the managing editor it'll be more authentic. Plus, he says I'm earnest and passionate and that will convince them."

Her smile was broad and she was obviously excited because she was rambling on, and on, and on… He nodded politely and Betty went back to her phone to finish sending that email to her boss. A few minutes later, Daniel's door opened and the Elaine came out.

"So mock it up for me and then we'll take another look, thanks Elaine," Daniel said as Elaine nodded and walked past Betty, giving her a polite smile.

She stood up and Daniel looked at his watch. "Sorry that went so long." He examined her from the doorway, smiling. "You look cute. Are you ready for lunch?" He walked up and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Definitely." She flung her purse over her shoulder.

"I just have to grab my jacket. Why don't you come in for a minute?" he said, gesturing to his office.

Mickey rolled his eyes as the two disappeared behind the door. "Come in for a minute" was code for a quick make-out session with those two who could barely keep their lips off one another, especially in the past week; it was as if someone had just turned up both the heat and their hormones. As if anyone wouldn't know that grabbing your jacket off of a hook does not take five minutes, or make your face flushed like you'd just run a marathon.

Mickey deliberated something for a moment, swaying back and forth in his mind. Mode was still struggling in a big way. They'd secured a few new advertisers but based on the meetings he'd sat in on taking notes for, they still had a long way to go if they intended to save the magazine. The new format shift would certainly help but they needed time to implement it and even more time to determine if it would help.

He rolled his chair back up to his desk, curiously clicked his mouse opening a contact database on his laptop and did a quick search. He didn't find a Huston Wines which meant they didn't currently or recently advertise in Mode. But if they were willing to meet with the people in charge of Londonesque, it meant they were entertaining the idea of an advertising contract. He opened his web browser and spent the next several minutes doing a quick, superficial but informative search of the company.

He heard the click of the door knob behind him and quickly minimized his web browser. He squinted at the spreadsheet open in front of him as if concentrating on it.

"I'll be back in about forty-minutes, Mickey. We're going for lunch," Daniel informed him as he and Betty walked past.

Mickey pulled the Huston Wines website back up, picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, may I speak to Mr. Terry McNeil's assistant please." He waited while he was transferred.

"Hello, Terry McNeil's office." A female answered.

"Yes. My name is Mickey Mouson from Mode Magazine. I'm the assistant to Daniel Meade, the Editor-in-Chief. I understand Mr. McNeil is responsible for advertising?"

"He is."

"Great. Mr. Meade and our advertising rep are very interested in setting up a meeting to discuss a potential contract. Do you think that might be possible?"

He opened Daniel's calendar while the assistant on the other end spoke.

"I'm afraid Mr. McNeil's schedule is pretty busy for the next week but we do have a spot on Friday."

Friday wouldn't work. If you want the worms, you need to be the early bird.

"This Friday? Could we possibly make it before then? I'm afraid that Mr. Meade is going out of town on Thursday," Mickey lied.

"Hmm…" There was a slight pause and then she responded. "I suppose we could squeeze you in tomorrow right after lunch. How about one o'clock?"

He quickly scanned Daniel's appointment calendar; one o'clock was open.

"Tomorrow is perfect. Thank you very much for your time and I assure you, you won't be disappointed."

He picked up the phone again. "Hi Stephen, it's Mickey. Apparently we were able book a meeting with a potential account for tomorrow, around noon. Daniel wants to know if you think you can have a presentation ready by then. I can send you the details on the company immediately."

"Certainly. I'll have my work cut out for me but we can't afford to thumb our noses at potential accounts, can we?" Stephen responded.

"Fantastic. I'll let him know."

He hung up the phone and sighed. He was going to have to do something about the fact that that the perky little piñata from New York was starting to grow on him because he almost felt guilty, which was stupid and completely unacceptable. There was no place for guilt in this business. And no reason, because all he did was set up an appointment; he really had no idea whether or not Daniel and the ad rep, Stephen would be able to sell ad spots in the magazine.

* * *

><p>"You look excited about something," Daniel commented with a boyish grin at her as they rode down the elevator.<p>

Betty was beaming so brightly he was certain the elevator didn't need its lights this afternoon. Plus, she looked incredibly adorable in that outfit and hat; it was all he could do not to attack her on the spot.

"I am very excited," Betty clapped her hands together lightly. "Lindsey called me while I was waiting for you and we have a big meeting with a potential adverting account on Thursday."

"Betty that's fantastic. I'm surprised you're going, though. I thought you weren't really hands on with the advertising."

"Usually I'm not but that's why I'm so excited. Lindsey thinks I should come with him and do a presentation on Londonesque and our vision for it. He thinks I have spunk and enthusiasm and they'll be sold on it if they hear the vision from me." Her smile was so broad it was contagious.

He slipped his arm around her. "That is amazing. He's right, you know. I would totally be sold if you did a presentation for me," he said sincerely.

She wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged his side. "You're a little biased."

"No, I'm a lot biased," Daniel grinned. "But for a good reason. You're great at your job and you have some terrific ideas for the magazine."

She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." He turned and met her lips for a warm kiss right before the elevator door opened.

He snatched her hand and they exited the elevator to make their way to the cafeteria on the ground floor. It was busy but they managed to find a small table next to the window after they grabbed their food.

"So tell me about this meeting," Daniel continued the conversation as they sat down.

"It's a large vineyard and it's pretty established. It should be a significant contract if we can convince them to buy some spots in the magazine." Betty took a bite of her sandwich.

"That's great Betty."

"I have a lot of work to do for the presentation though, so I might not be able to see you tonight," she peered at him cautiously.

"That'll be our first night apart since we started, uh…well…not being apart," he grinned and a tinge of pink rose across her cheeks.

"Sorry," she said looking down.

"Hey, don't be sorry, you have work to do. I probably should work late tonight too. I've been a little distracted lately." He glanced at her and they shared a smile. "A really great distraction though."

"How are things with Mode?" She asked

"Fine. Good." He sighed, feeling a little like he was drowning. "Actually, I don't know. We definitely still have a lot to do to get it back in the black. Starting with getting some new advertisers."

She reached across the table and put her hand over his. "I'm so proud of you and how hard you're working. Well, maybe not exactly this past week, what with all the distraction and everything. But, you know, before that." She smiled sweetly.

He felt his heart fill up and he smiled warmly at her. He was about to respond when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Tom and Katie." It was said with his typical condescension but when Daniel turned he noted a hint of pleasure on Marc's face as if he was truly happy to see them.

"Marc!" Betty grinned broadly and stood up. "It's so great to see you."

It was the first time she'd seen him since he'd arrived and she was thrilled about it. She threw her arms around him, avoiding the cafeteria tray he was holding in one hand. He flinched a little before awkwardly giving her a half-hearted, mollifying pat on the back with his free hand.

"Yes, I presume it is," he said with his usual haughtiness which, of course, was ignored by Betty.

"Are you just coming for lunch? You have to join us." She was so guileless in her enthusiasm, despite Marc's feigned indifference, that Daniel was reminded again why he loved her so much.

Marc hesitated so Daniel added "Come on, we know you want to. It's good for your image to be seen eating with the cool kids."

"If you two are the cool kids Mode really is in trouble," Marc retorted.

Daniel stood up and asked the neighbouring table if he could scoop the empty chair. He slipped it over closer to Betty and sat down on it so Marc could have his seat, before grabbing his plate and pulling it over. Marc sat down in it and placed his tray on the table.

"I'm not, uh…interrupting anything am I?" Marc asked awkwardly as he took a sip of his water.

He seemed so uncomfortable about it, Daniel almost couldn't resist making some comment about the cafeteria being far too public a venue for any "nasty behaviour" but realizing how mortified that might make Betty, he refrained.

Instead he stuck to something safe. "Of course not. How are you settling in?"

Marc started enthusiastically, "Good. There's a lot to do, but it's been fantastic getting caught up and I'm really lov—" he stopped suddenly, looked at Daniel and then continued much more subdued, "Uh…it's alright." He stuffed a forkful of salad into his mouth.

Betty looked at Marc oddly. "That was a weird shift in enthusiasm."

"Give him a break Betty, he's trying to pretend he's not enjoying it so Wilhelmina can hold the debt over my head for a little while longer," Daniel replied with nonchalance.

Betty looked over sharply at Daniel and Marc's eyes went wide.

"I'm not a stupid as Wilhelmina thinks, Marc," Daniel added, rather indifferent to the whole thing.

Marc scrambled for something to say. "She doesn't think—"

"Give me a break," Daniel interrupted him, incredulous that he would even attempt to try and convince him of anything like that.

"Alright, fine. She thinks you're a complete imbecile," Marc conceded.

"Is that true, Marc?" Betty asked, surprised.

"I don't think it's a shock to anyone that Wilhelmina thinks Daniel's an imbecile," Marc replied.

"Not that. Is it true you were _pretending_ not to be excited?"

"Look, the only way I could convince Willie to let me come was to make it seem like we were doing Daniel a favour."

"Marc." Betty scolded him with her disappointed tone. "Wilhelmina isn't even on the same continent."

"This is all so very confusing for him, Betty," Daniel explained lightly. "His inherent terror toward the woman extends even across the great Atlantic."

"She's pervasive." Marc said his tone complete awe and partly a whisper. "She's everywhere – places you'd expect and those you wouldn't - secretly keeping everything under her tight control, even if you can't see her and her effects go unnoticed to the naked eye. She's like the wind, or Spanx."

Betty rolled her eyes.

His tone changed considerably and he turned his attention to Betty. "Speaking of Spanx, Betty—"

"Marc…" Daniel's tone was threatening. He had no idea where Marc was heading with that comment but based on his mischeivious expression it was nowhere good.

"What? I was just going to ask the little senorita how her magazine was going." Marc put on his most innocent face.

Betty's face lit up again, excited to talk about it. "It's great. I'm loving it so much. And today Lindsey asked me to go with him to a meeting on Thursday and do a presentation for some potential advertisers. Plus, we have some fantastic articles going into this month's issue. Oh my goodness, I'm so excited about it. We're doing a theme on—"

Marc held up his hand and interrupted her, his eyes squinting with slight disgust. "It was a polite platitude Betty. I wasn't really interested in the nitty gritty. All that 'save the whales', 'hug a tree', 'prevent child labour' stuff is incredibly depressing and boring."

"I'm sorry meaningful issues put a crimp in your day Marc," Betty said sarcastically.

"Not half as sorry as I am. Thank God for the six o'clock edition of Toddlers and Tiaras. It's the only way I survive the news hour." He seemed to examine Betty curiously now, for the first time since he'd joined them at the table. "What's with the outfit, Betty?"

Betty looked down self-consciously. "What?"

Marc shrugged and looked confused. "It's just…it actually kind of works."

Betty beamed. "Thanks Marc."

"Careful Marc, that's almost a compliment." Daniel said, a small teasing grin at the corners of his mouth.

Marc turned to him sharply. "Pu-lease, at best it was an admission that today's yardsale selection isn't hideous. And don't jump on board the smug train just yet because I haven't even started with you. What on earth is going on with this?" He waved his hand up and down in front of Daniel. Is that a linen shirt with a wool suit? My God Daniel, the next thing you know, you'll be wearing tweed with patches on the elbows."

Daniel looked down at his outfit and replied defensively, "What? It was a new shirt and I wanted to wear it. I didn't think anyone would notice."

"You are the Editor-in-Chief of Mode, not some pathetic, little socialistic rag like Betty here."

"Hey!" Betty piped up, offended.

Marc waved her off dismissively. "My point is: _Everyone_ will notice. A little word of advice: Stop yourself when you're about to make such a colossal fashion misstep. There is too much on the line."

"Yeah Daniel, lives are at stake, didn't you know?" Betty added with a teasing smirk.

Marc defended himself, completely serious. "You mock Betty, but this is serious business. One wrong move and the world is wearing legwarmers again."

Betty rolled her eyes again. "How's Amanda, Marc?" she asked changing the subject.

"Good. Great. Getting us all settled. Seeing the sights." Marc's answers were short and his tone was clipped; he was obviously lying.

"You should talk to Elaine about seeing if there's any work for her," Daniel suggested. "If she's interested."

"She might be. I don't know. She's keeping pretty busy," Marc replied rather evasively.

"When are we going to get together for dinner?" Betty asked with her usual enthusiasm.

"I'll talk to Amanda and we'll get back to you," Marc said with a smile that didn't seem quite genuine.


	26. Hobnobs and Hand Grenades

Marc took the short lift ride up to the flat on the fifth floor where he and Amanda were living. Less than a full week into the job and he was feeling confident and excited. Daniel had already conscripted him to make changes to the fashions selected for the centre autumn spread to be shot in a couple of days because he considered some of the choices a little drab.

He was glad he'd made the decision to come to London. Mandy, on the other hand, he wasn't too sure about. She'd been mopey since they'd arrived. She hadn't felt up to going to dinner with Daniel and Betty. She didn't even want to go shopping. At first he attributed it to jet lag but several days later she was still lethargic and moody.

He slipped his key into the lock and opened the door. What he saw when he entered wasn't even remotely surprising. She was curled up under a blanket on the couch watching television, still in her robe. There was bag of cookies on one side of her and a box of tissues on the other to catch the teary fallout of whatever pathetic soap opera she was watching all afternoon.

"Oh hey, Marc." She gestured to the television and exclaimed enthusiastically, "Natasha told Nick she's pregnant just so he'd stick around!"

"Mandy, have you been watching television all day again?" He placed his laptop down and took off his jacket.

"Not all day. I was on the internet for a little while. Did you know bold lips are coming back in? The colours are fab!"

He was filled with a moderate amount of hope at that statement. At least it was fashion related and had some substance to it.

"I did know that. Actually Amanda, that's last week's news and you would have known that if you got off that couch and joined us in the real world. And what are you eating?" He walked over to the sofa to take a closer look.

"HobNobs - chocolate coated ones. Mmm, whoever invented these is a genius. Oatmeal cookies dunked in chocolate, you have to try one."

"You need to stop eating like that. You are going to look like Betty if you keep this up and I hate to say it Mandy, but you don't possess the 'nice' that Betty does to go with the plump. You would just be chubby and mean."

She sighed. "Fine. Take them. The only comfort I have in this cruel, dark world, Marc and you are going to rip them from my hands."

He sat down on the couch beside her.

"This whole restraining order thing will blow over in no time, you'll see. Celebrities issuing restraining orders against crazed fans are a dime a dozen. It's probably old news already." He put his hand carefully (so as not to touch a used tissue or a chocolate stain) and comfortingly around her shoulder and she leaned in and put her head on his chest.

"It's not just that." She popped one more HobNob into her mouth whole, and chewed.

"Then what is it?" he asked, looking down and making a tiny face at the grotesque image of her trying to chew with a mouth full of cookie

She pointed to her mouth indicating she couldn't talk at the moment. He waited a good solid minute until she got the mouthful under control and was able to speak again.

"Do you think I'm unlovable?" She raised her vulnerable little spheres to his and it made his heartbreak.

He hated seeing her sad, but to see her sad and wretched was almost intolerable. Where was the saucy minx that sashayed through the halls of Mode so confident in her beauty and dazzle that all the regular girls were left in a pathetic, prosaic wake?

"Aww Mandy…no, you're very lovable."

"I don't mean to gay men, Marc. I mean to real men." She looked back down at the box of HobNobs on her lap.

Marc, not so gently, pried them out of her clenched fingers and tossed the box onto the armchair, out of her reach.

"To all men. You are fabulous," he gave her a little squeeze. "Where is this coming from?"

"It's Daniel and Betty," she admitted softly. "The whole thing makes me feel kinda…funny."

Marc pushed her up off of his shoulder so he could give her an odd look. "Whoa! Hold on there Camilla. A little while ago you were the one who insisted I _not_ post this fabulous, hilarious idea of mine because you were all like," he raised his voice in a high pitched mock "'No Marc, we can't. We have to give those two kids a chance. This might be the real thing for them.' Remember that, Amanda?"

"I know. And I meant it Marc. I really did. It felt like I was cheering for all fuzzy, orphaned, little Mexican girls everywhere. And, I mean, I like Betty, really. She's grown on me; all that perkiness and gumption is inspiring, you know?"

Marc made a face and shrugged. He really didn't know; he kind of thought it was annoying but obviously now was not the time to argue with the fragile woman.

"But what does she have that I don't?" She looked over at the box of cookies on the chair.

"Is this why you keep dodging their attempts to get together for dinner?"

"They're in a real relationship, Marc. Daniel never wanted that with me. Ever."

"Do you want him to want that with you?" Marc was confused; he didn't think Amanda felt anything but friendship for Daniel anymore.

"No. That whole thing for Daniel is so four years ago and I have so moved on. But that's not the point. The point is: First Matt chooses her over me and now Daniel. How does she do it? I mean, look at her and then look at me, it doesn't make sense. It completely defies the laws of nature, like bees being able to fly or chubby people in spandex."

Marc put his arm around her again and she leaned into him. He rubbed her arm reassuringly and examined her – her knotted hair, her sad face with the traces of chocolate on the side her mouth, and he tried not to grimace at the used tissues and HobNob crumbs scattered across her robe. Her argument was a little lacking looking at this particular Amanda; he just tried to remember that she did clean up nicely.

"Okay, well the Matt thing is simple. Baby Fartley's taste was extremely questionable to begin with. You only needed to look at his wardrobe to figure that out, and don't even get me started on the hair. You should be grateful that never panned out because what did he really offer besides billions? The brown shoes, Mandy - remember the shoes? And those corny jokes, if you could even call them that...ugh. And as for Daniel, he's just at that age." Amanda looked puzzled so he clarified. "He's reached the age of wanting a family. It's basic evolutionary theory – survival of the fittest. The male of the species is looking to pass his genes along so he's scoped out the sturdiest looking female of the herd to increase his chances of successful reproduction."

"You really think so?" She sounded hopeful.

"Sure. It's the only logical explanation. Betty has sturdy child-bearing hips and let's face it, you're hips are designed less for procreation, more for recreation." Marc nodded confidently.

Amanda nodded thoughtfully, looking convinced.

"But if you keep eating those stupid cookies you'll have the sturdy hips."

"Well, I think maybe I may want a baby someday, Marc."

Marc's eyes widen. "A baby! Do you even know what you're saying? Babies are smelly, winey, eating machines that offer no real benefit to the unfortunate individual who has to watch them."

"They are kind of mini-divas though. 'Feed me', 'change me', and a huge hissy fit when you don't. Don't you find that intriguing?"

"Not so much intriguing as annoying," Marc replied.

"Besides, they seem to be the 'must have' accessory lately. Everyone who's anyone has one – Amy Adams, Sandra Bullock, even Claudia Schiffer had another one and she's, like, a gazillion years old. And Angelina Jolie likes the things so much she has one in every colour."

"Okay, so one day you'll get yourself a baby. But let's get you to land your billionaire first, because trust me, you'll want a nanny."

"I don't care about landing a billionaire anymore, Marc," Amanda sighed despondently.

Marc gasped. "Mandy, you have been on this sofa too long. You've lost perspective."

"I'm serious. I think I just want someone who loves me for me."

Marc nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand that. But let's make sure he has some wealth or at least a reasonable means of acquiring wealth. And failing that, he needs to be smoking hot so you can produce offspring that can do child modelling, acting or beauty pageants in order to help maintain your lifestyle."

Unexpectedly, an image of an enormous, pregnant, barefoot Amanda in a tiny, cluttered kitchen, with a screaming baby in a high chair and a snotty toddler yanking on her oversize, hideous, muumuu, while she stood over a sink doing dishes popped into his head.

"Holy Wang!" he grabbed the arm of sofa dramatically.

"What's wrong Marc?" Amanda asked, concerned by his reaction.

"Horrible images. A dreadful look into a future that you do not want to be part of - barefoot, pregnant, with an entire average looking brood vying for your attention, and the worst part of all…" He lowered his voice to a whisper and finished, "you were wearing polyester."

Amanda's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Aaah!"

"I know. If that doesn't get you off of this couch, and desperately seeking billionaires, nothing will. I have some work at Mode you can do, Mandy, to get you back into the swing of things. We have to get ready for the cover shoot and we need some people to work on the set. I know you've never done it before but you're creative and I kind of exaggerated your skill set a little and told Elaine, the Creative Director, that you were qualified."

Her eyes lit up. "You mean like a set designer?"

"Uh…sure."

A grunt worker for a set designer was a better description but he didn't need to tell her that or she'd never get off of the couch. She could discover what her real role was when she got there. He was convinced, as soon as she got back into the Mode atmosphere with all the emaciated models and temperamental photographers she'd be hungry for it, no pun intended. And once she was there, he'd take her to the closet where all the Gucci, Wang, and Versace would deliver the final blow and she'd be hooked again. He knew his Mandy and there was no way she could resist that, particularly when he reminded her that swag day was only a few short weeks away.

"She believed you? She didn't want to see my resume or anything?" Amanda's was starting to sound excited.

"One of the benefits of being the Senior Fashion Editor is that I have some pull."

"Aww, Marc, you lied for me?" Amanda was touched.

"I had to Amanda, this couch potato thing is really getting old. I love you and everything but I can't have this…" he waved his hand in a circular motion in front of her and made a disgusted face, "associated with me. I am the Senior Fashion Editor of Mode, I have an image to uphold. Besides, once we get closer to the day we do the shoot we can switch you to a role you're more comfortable with."

"You mean sleeping with the photographer?" Amanda inquired.

Marc looked at her and tried to determine if she was serious before answering. "No. I meant Stylist."

"Oh, that."

"Come on, we need to get you up and moving before those cookies stick to your hips."

* * *

><p>Amanda went to work with Marc the next day. He felt guilty, only briefly, that he let her leave the house in her bright orange Yves St. Laurent mini-dress knowing she'd be lugging things around and maybe even painting. But he was hopeful they had painting smocks at the office for people helping with the set design; besides if he told her before they got there she might not go.<p>

Sometime around mid-morning, she burst into his office with that crazed look that she sometimes got on her face. He flinched a little, remembering those brutal slaps of hers.

Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a smudge of army green paint was smeared across her right cheek. And looky-there, he was right, they did have smocks. Hers was large, with the sleeves rolled up and it was hanging to her knees so she looked like a flasher in a trench coat with nothing on underneath, but at least her mini-dress was covered. Unfortunately, the Prada shoes…not so lucky. Perhaps it was only fair he buy her a new pair if he survived this encounter which, by the look on her face, seemed unlikely.

"Marc, what the hell is this." She was holding a hand grenade and although he was completely aware it was a fake, it made him shudder a little. He was surprised she didn't have a machine gun strapped to her back as well.

"It looks like a hand grenade, Mandy. It's a little bomb that you throw," he explained, deflecting the question.

"I know what _this_ is," she said, shaking the grenade violently; the image was a little chilling and he wished she'd put it down. "I meant, why am I doing this? I thought you said I would be a set designer."

"No, _you_ said you would be a set designer. I just said I could get you some work."

"I'm painting Marc. Painting. With yucky, smelly, dirty…paint." Now she looked like she was about to break into tears. "And I had to carry a big crate up seven flights from the ground floor."

"You didn't use the lift?" Marc questioned putting on his fake British accent to try and cheer her.

She glared at him. "Where the hell is this lift thing everyone's talking about? That's what the guy who sent me to get the crate said." She mocked him with the worst accent ever. " 'It's 'eavy, make sure to take the lift, luv.' I couldn't find the stupid lift."

"Amanda, we took it up this morning," Marc reminded her.

"We did?" She looked confused.

"Yeah. The little box with all the buttons on the wall…it's the elevator," he explained.

She sighed. "Stupid language. Why don't they just say elevator?" She slumped down into the chair on the other side of his desk. "I'm not cut out for this job Marc."

"Aww, Mandy, sure you are. Painting is simple. Just think of it as applying make-up to a really big face."

She looked thoughtful. "Well, it did kind of have that same feel."

"See?" Marc was becoming hopeful. "And on the plus side, you get to see me throughout the day."

She smiled. "It is nice to be working together again. What is with the army theme though?" she asked shaking her head, her face contorted with disgust.

Marc sighed. "It's Daniel. Remember the flak jackets in the desert at Christmas and 'Love is a battlefield' for Valentine's Day? The man is obsessed with killing and war."

"I thought Betty would soften him up and he'd be all kittens and bunnies now."

"He probably is _now_. The decision for this shoot was made before they were baking the enchilada."

" 'Baking the enchilada'?" Amanda asked, puzzled, giving him an odd look.

"It's my new euphemism. Do you like it?"

"Not really." She shook her head.

"Anyway, apparently the down and dirty only started recently, hence the backorder of death and the military."

"Interesting…" Amanda's eyebrows were raised.

"Not really considering it's Betty. She probably had him do a series of tests, fill out a bunch of forms, and undergo a treatment of antibiotics before they could get their mojo going." He changed the topic. "Anyway Mandy, it's only one more day of the set construction and then, I swear, I'll switch you to stylist for the shoot."

"Aww, thanks Marc."

"You look like you're feeling better," he offered hopefully.

"You know, I am, even with all this manual labour. I think just getting around all this glitter and sparkle is helping. There's a smell around this office that seeps into your system; it's all glamour and seduction."

"Actually, I think it's overbearing perfume and cologne, and too much hair product," Marc corrected her. "But anyway, to each his own. Oh, and hey, I saw the photographer coming out of Daniel's office and he's a cu-tie." He finished the end of the sentence a little sing-songy.

"Never mind him, Marc. Did you see the designer they are featuring in the 'Who to Watch' section? And he's totally straight."

"How do you know?"

"Unibrow," Amanda replied as if it was obvious. "But other than the caterpillar over his eyes, he's hot. You should see the way he fills out his t-shirt and jeans."

"He wears a t-shirt and jeans and he has a unibrow? Totally straight," Marc concurred.

"I know. And if you saw him in them it would make you want to trans-Alexify yourself so you could get his attention."

Marc grimaced a little at the thought but didn't linger on it too long because something else was bothering him. "Are you sure you can overlook the caterpillar?" He was a little skeptical.

"Completely. Daniel and Betty have taught me something about deep relationships. Love is about more than just the hair on your face, and if he can overlook hers than I can overlook Designer Dave's, or whatever his name is, especially since he's going to be a success, I can just feel it. You should see his stuff. And I mean his real stuff, not his stuff-stuff, if you know what I mean."

"Amazingly, I do." Marc commented with disbelief that he actually understood that.

"Forget the lowly photographer, Marc. I gotta snatch the designer while he's still a nobody and ride his coat-tail, and other things, to superstardom."

"Aww Mandy, you're back!" Marc was delighted.


	27. Big News

_As always, I'm super appreciative of the wonderful reviews, so thanks again everyone. They are such an encouragement - I can't tell you enough. _

_I know this is a lenthy update but I feel like the story flows better when you get a bigger piece of it at once. I debated posting it in two parts but I figure if I post it this way everyone can read as much as they want at their own pace. Plus, there is a little bit of foreshadowing in chapter 27 including some foreshadowing to something later in this same update and you'd miss it if I posted them weeks apart. Extra points if you can guess what it is from just reading chapter 27. ;)_

_Disclaimers: the same one as before...I'm not in the publishing industry, I'm just making this stuff up so please, please forgive me for glaring factual errors. Still, I hope you have fun with the story. _

_It's been a few weeks since the last update so in case you've forgotten, here's a quick review..._

_**Previously on Lovers and Madmen:** Daniel and Betty finally have a meeting of the minds (and various other body parts), and decide they enjoy it much more than almost anything else, including food (much to Betty's dismay). Daniel impulsively asks Betty to move in with him. Marc and Amanda arrive in London. Marc starts work, loving every minute of it, while Amanda mopes, a little insecurely, on the sofa for several days. Finally, Amanda goes in to Mode to do some work and starts to feel better, even setting her sights on an attractive, yet bushy eyebrowed, up-and-coming designer. And Mickey overhears Betty's conversation with Lindsey about meeting with an advertiser and decides to get Daniel and Stephen, the ad rep, into a meeting there first. So now we continue..._

* * *

><p>"He did WHAT!" Hilda screamed and Betty held her cell phone away from her ear with one hand as she pushed the grocery cart down the aisle with the other.<p>

Betty had worked late on her presentation for Thursday. She'd grabbed a sandwich at a nearby deli for supper and then went back up to her office. But as she headed home she was reminded of the fact that she had hardly any food in her cupboards because of her remarkably distracting week with Daniel. It's not like she had needed to shop, they had scarcely been interested in anything other than…well, they hadn't been eating much. And they certainly hadn't been taking the time to cook anything. She'd decided to grab a few things on the way home and talk to Hilda at the same time – another task that had been getting neglected with everything that had been going on.

"You heard me. I said he asked me to move in with him." Betty stopped and grabbed a box of cereal off of the shelf to put it in the cart.

"You've been dating a week, Betty," Hilda exaggerated.

"Four, Hilda…actually it was three when he asked me because he asked me last weekend," Betty corrected her.

"He asked you last week and you're only telling me now? What about all the conversations we had earlier this week?"

"Okay, first of all, I didn't feel like getting into all of it during our short conversations in the middle of the day when I was at work."

"And why is that, huh? Don't think I haven't noticed it's never your evening when you call us anymore."

"I've just been busy in the evening. At least I have been calling," she defended, as she started to push the cart again.

"Busy with Daniel?" Hilda asked with that sing-songy tone she used when she was implying something and Betty could practically hear her smiling.

"Yes, with Daniel, who else?"

"Is he taking you out and spending all his money on you lately?"

"We're, um, keeping busy," Betty hated lying and knew she'd never get away with it anyway so being evasive was really the best option here.

Hilda paused for a second and Betty held her breath because she knew her sister was analysing that statement. Suddenly Hilda gasped. "Oh my gosh! You're not getting out at all, are you? You're staying in. You're 'keeping busy' in private. No wonder you're not calling us in the evening, you're too busy gettin' it on, all of the time."

"Hilda!" Betty scolded, cringing a little, although she wasn't sure why; it's not like it wasn't true but somehow Hilda's accusation made her feel a little skanky. "Don't you have clients there? We should change the subject before my love life is the talk of Manhattan."

"Nuh uh, you're not getting off that easy. My next appointment isn't for half an hour. So are you denying it?" Hilda asked.

" 'All of the time' might be an exaggeration," Betty replied cautiously, trying to downplay it a little.

"Did you get out of bed this weekend?" Hilda asked with a slight accusatory tone.

Betty hesitated and bit her lower lip as she tried to consider exactly how to answer that without giving away too much and without outright lying.

Hilda jumped in again before she had a chance too. Betty's hesitation had been a dead give-away. "You didn't, did you?" She laughed gleefully. "No wonder the guy asked you to move in. You've got his brain all fogged over in a super sexed-up coma."

"Okay, that's not even a real thing, Hilda. And weren't you the one wondering why we weren't sleeping together a couple weeks ago because we've known each other forever?" She looked up just as she finished that statement and an older lady, who had her eyebrows raised curiously, turned away quickly pretending not to listen.

"That's one thing, but moving in together after only a month? Papi would freak out. Remember how he reacted when you told him you were going to Rome with Gio?"

"I know. I didn't say I was going to do it…yet. Just that he asked me." Betty explained.

"Did you say no? How did he take that?"

"I didn't say no. I said we should think about it a little more." Betty stopped in front of the bread so she could pick up a loaf.

"So you just put him off for a little bit," Hilda said, trying to clarify it.

"Yeah, I guess." She pushed the cart further along and stopped at the refrigerated section at the end of the aisle so she could get some milk. She looked at the price and slipped the container into her cart with a sigh. "Gosh, everything is so expensive here."

"So move in with Daniel and you won't have to worry about it," Hilda jested lightly.

"Hilda, that is not why you move in with someone," Betty scolded.

"I think it definitely is why some people move in with other people, particularly wealthy boyfriends," Hilda commented.

"Yeah, well I'm not one of those women. If I move in with Daniel it won't be to save money on groceries," Betty assured her.

"No, I'm sure it won't be. It sounds like you have another, more fun excuse for shacking up and the cost of groceries is the least of your worries because you're barely taking the time to eat anyway," she teased.

Betty face went warm again. She hated the thought that her sister was making what she believed where exaggerated jokes and yet all of it was true. "Ha, ha. I can't believe how funny you've gotten since I moved away," she said sarcastically.

Hilda changed her tone. "So seriously though, do you want to move in with him, Betty?"

"It's crazy soon Hilda. But that's just like Daniel. He decides what he wants and goes for it impulsively without considering everything involved."

"That doesn't really answer my question." Hilda's tone was soft and concerned.

Betty stopped walking and adjusted the phone to the other ear while she heaved a big confused sigh.

"I love him so much. And a part of me thinks why not? Why wait? But the other part thinks moving in so quickly is insane. I don't want to put too much pressure on our relationship so soon and then we end up regretting it, maybe even breaking up because of it."

"Do you think it would?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I just don't want us to mess this up. There's already enough pressure with both of us working so much."

"And don't forget the competition with the magazines," Hilda added.

Betty continued down another aisle so she could grab a few more groceries. "There was just that one advertiser," she commented without thinking as she grabbed some cooking oil off of the shelf.

"What advertiser?" Hilda asked and Betty suddenly remembered she deliberately hadn't told Hilda what had happened with _NaturalOne Cosmetics_ because of how overprotective she could be at times.

"Uh…it was nothing," Betty tried backtracking.

"Betty…" It was obvious from Hilda's tone that she didn't buy that it was nothing and she wasn't going to drop it either.

"It's no big deal. Mode won a contract to advertise a company that used to advertise in Londonesque," Betty explained, trying to keep the language as neutral as possible.

"He stole one of your advertisers!" Apparently the language didn't really fool Hilda.

"I wouldn't use the word 'steal'," she defended cautiously.

"So what term would you use, huh? Rip off, poach, swipe—" Her tone was one of increasing agitation about this.

"Hilda, you're overreacting. He's just trying to save his magazine."

"Why aren't you ticked off about this, Betty?"

"I was…well, disappointed more than anything. But, come on, I told him he needed to do what he could to save Mode. I can't exactly tell him not to look for advertisers, can I?"

"No, I guess not. But can't he find his own? Does he have to steal yours?"

"It's not like that. It's not like he has a file of my advertisers and is going through a list. It was just a coincidence."

"If you say so," Hilda sounded skeptical.

"I do, so can we drop it?" Betty practically begged.

"I guess. I have something better to talk about anyway. Okay, so I wanted to share this with you on Skype because I wanted to see your face but I can never get on the stupid thing when no one else is around…"

Betty started to smile in anticipation because Hilda sounded so excited. "What?"

"I'm pregnant, Betty."

"Aahh! Aahh!" Betty squealed and bounced up and down a few times before realizing she was making a bit of a scene in the grocery store. She calmed herself and lowered her voice. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you guys. And for me - I'm gonna be an aunt again. How far along are you?"

"It's still really early. We're not telling anyone yet, especially because of last time. Justin and Papi don't even know, but I had to tell my sister."

Betty's eyes filled with tears. Since her move to London she'd been fearful of not being as close with her family but the fact that Hilda was sharing this news with her so soon and even before her dad and Justin, was proof that wasn't the case.

"Oh Hilda…" Betty gasped, completely touched.

"You're not crying, are you?"

"A little," she admitted softly.

"Well stop or you'll get me started."

"Sorry." Betty swallowed hard. "It's just that I miss you, so much."

Now she was crying outright – tears of happiness for Hilda and Bobby and tears of sadness that she was so far away and she felt like she was missing out on everything.

"Hey, stop. I miss you too, Betty," Hilda sniffed. "But blubbering about it doesn't help, so let's not."

"Okay." Betty sniffed too and wiped her face with her hand.

"Are you still coming home at Christmas?" Hilda asked.

"I should be able to. I'm saving up and I should have enough by then."

"Saving up? You have a super wealthy boyfriend who would probably be more than happy to buy you a plane ticket."

"Hilda, just because Daniel's my boyfriend doesn't mean I want him spend loads of money so I can get home for Christmas. That's not right."

"Well whatever. As long as you get home. I can't wait."

"I can't either. Christmas seems so far away," Betty replied wistfully.


	28. Divided Loyalties

"I don't remember this appointment," Daniel said casually to Mickey the as Mickey handed him his suit jacket and the report on the company.

"You don't? Oh, uh, that's right, I think maybe Stephen booked it at the last minute a few days ago. The details and stats on the company are all in the report. Just read it in the car on the way over, let Stephen handle most of the pitch and you'll be fine," Mickey replied, grabbing the lint roller and expediently rolling it over Daniel's suit to catch most of the fluff. "The car is probably here already. Stephen said he'd meet you downstairs."

"Okay. While I'm gone, can you get on the back of the guys in the photo department and tell them I want those photos on my desk by the end of the day? I was supposed to have them two days ago."

"Sure."

"Thanks Mickey, you're the best." He paused for a second feeling slightly disloyal about that statement. "Uh, well _one_ of the best. Sorry, but you haven't displaced Betty from top assistant spot yet. Those are some pretty big shoes to fill. But you're definitely a close second."

Mickey smiled. "Understandable."

The car was waiting when Daniel arrived downstairs and Stephen was already in it. After a few pleasantries he immediately opened the report so he could familiarize himself with the details.

"Okay, so I have no idea about this company. I think I'll let you handle most of this if you don't mind. This is the first chance I've had to really look."

"Sure. I've gotten up to speed pretty quickly."

Daniel started skimming. It was a wine company named Huston Wines which wasn't particularly odd except it was interesting that Betty was meeting with a Vineyard or wine company or something this week too. He tried to remember the conversation. She was starting to tell him and then Marc walked up and interrupted them. It's not as if it was likely to be the same company. What would be the odds of Stephen and Lindsey booking a meeting with the exact same company in the same week? For some reason though, he couldn't help feeling slightly unnerved about it.

From Daniel's perspective the meeting went as well as could be expected considering halfway through it the uneasy feeling he had about the company changed to panic when Stephen was asked directly by Terry McNeil why they should advertise with Mode and not one of Dunne's Publications. The blood in Daniel's veins went a little bit cold and he started to feel clammy. He took a deep breath. That was a pretty conclusive indicator that this was definitely the same company Betty had been talking about. From that moment forward, the rest of the meeting seemed like a blur. He couldn't remember exactly what he had said but he knew whatever it was Stephen wasn't impressed.

Stephen waited until they were back in the car before blasting him. "I know you're the boss so I'm hoping you'll take what I'm saying with the utmost respect, but…what in bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Daniel flinched - more from Stephen's boldness than his annoyance. It had been pretty obvious even before he had spoken that he was annoyed. He looked up at his perplexed face. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean all those comments about taking their time to think about it, to make sure Mode is the best fit for them. We're selling ads here Daniel, not proposing marriage, and we want this account. We don't care if we're a good fit for them, we just want their money. They are a fresh company, willing to commit to a contract and you acted like an eejit about it. You almost balled it up completely. 'Take your time and think about it'? What in heaven's name was that all about? Why? So we can wait and let another periodical move in with a better offer?"

"I was just trying to lessen the sales pressure."

Stephen looked like he was desperately trying to maintain his composure. His jaw was tight, probably because of gritted teeth and his nostrils were practically flaring. It wasn't particularly a good look for the guy but Daniel supposed mentioning that wouldn't make him any friendlier right now. "There is a reason for sales pressure. It puts the pressure on to make people commit. We make people spend their money on us so we can convince other people to spend their money on our advertisers. It's basic economics." He sighed heavily. "Listen Daniel, do me a favour, the next time you plan to join me on one of these little adventures…don't."

"They signed, didn't they?" Daniel reasoned.

"Yes, for half of what they might have." Stephen shook his head, completely puzzled by it. "I don't understand. We've signed accounts before and you were as hardnosed about it as I was. What was with you today?"

"Nothing. Nothing was with me. I just wanted them to make a clear-headed decision about what they were doing. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, do you?" Daniel was getting angry and defensive. He was the boss and here this guy was questioning his motivation. "And I think you're forgetting who is in charge here. I not only run this magazine, I own it. Don't forget that."

Stephen looked stunned. Daniel had never spoken to him like that before. Actually, Daniel didn't take that tone with anyone very often, at all. But he was feeling bad all around after that meeting and the last thing he wanted questioned was his loyalty to his own company.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same vineyard Betty was supposed to be meeting with in a couple of days, and he had messed up the meeting – somewhat intentionally – in some sort of guilty panic that had overtaken him in the moment. Now he was feeling double the guilt because he realized, as the panic cleared, he'd let Stephen and Mode down too. He closed his eyes as the car road down the street. There was no winning this screwed up arrangement and he imagined it might get worse before it got any better, if it ever did.

* * *

><p>Mickey was working at his desk when Daniel charged back in from his meeting with Huston Vineyards, stopping for half a minute to grab his messages off of Mickey's desk. One look and Mickey could tell something was not quite right.<p>

"How was the meeting, Daniel?" Mickey asked, keeping his tone upbeat.

"Great," Daniel replied; it was so short and with no intonation that it was hard to tell if it was the truth or sarcasm. He focused on the messages, not even bothering to lift his eyes in response, and went straight into his office, closing the door behind him a little harder than normal. Obviously sarcasm then.

His heart sank. That was a little discouraging but he wasn't one to give up easily. Saving Mode was going to take a lot of effort. He knew that from the beginning. One advertiser wasn't going to make it or break it. Obviously, he was going to have to work a little harder. He had to; there was too much riding on this.

* * *

><p>When Daniel arrived home after work, Betty was already there. She was staring blankly into his fridge and looked up at him when she heard him enter. He was still feeling guilty from this afternoon's meeting but one look at this image of her and he started to feel better. He felt so much better in fact that he mustered the first smile he had all day. She hadn't agreed to move in quite yet but she had accepted a key to his loft and the fact that she was using it and looking so at home could only be a good sign.<p>

"You have absolutely nothing edible in here," she complained.

He put his laptop bag down on the floor and hung up his coat in the closet. "There's got to be something."

"Moldy cheese and beer." She made a face and scrunched up her nose which he thought was adorable.

He walked over, pushed the fridge closed and bent down and kissed her nose.

"We'll order in," he offered.

"I'm sick of take out. I thought you were going to learn to cook. You have to have food in your house if you want to learn to cook."

"You have to have time to learn to cook too," he reminded her.

She nodded thoughtfully to that statement and then sighed with frustration. "This is so stupid. We should have met at my place, I went shopping last night."

"Your place is farther away," Daniel reminded her.

"Yeah, but at least I have food. I guess take-out it is," she sighed as she wrapped her arms around his waist under his suit jacket. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his chin and he turned his face to give her a proper one.

Daniel smiled gently at her. "Hey, how about we hit the grocery store, pick up a few things and try to make something. That way we're having something not take-outy." Okay, that sounded almost dorky but she'd know what he meant.

"'Take-outy' isn't a word," she reminded him with a small grin.

"Well, look who's getting all editory on me." He replied with a smirk, figuring he might as well play it up now.

"Editory isn't a word either," she said with a sigh, her face dropping and her mood shifting suddenly.

"What? What is it, Betty?"

She shook her head and wandered over to the sofa to sit down. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing. You shifted moods dramatically after that last statement and I know it's not my grammar because you're certainly used to that by now," he joked lightly. He walked over and sat down beside her.

She smiled only half-heartedly. "I had a rough day. I guess your comment reminded me of it."

He'd had a rough day himself but seeing Betty like this made him realize his might pale in comparison. She rarely let her work get her down, especially since working at Londonesque which she loved so much. Besides, he knew he didn't want to discuss his. There was no way that was a good idea. _Hey Betty, guess who I met with today… _Nope. That wasn't going to happen. Focusing on hers was definitely the better option.

He took her hand and pulled it over onto his lap. "Do you want talk about it?"

"I feel like I'm in over my head," she replied as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in for a quick comfort hug. "You're not. You just had a difficult day. We all have those once in a while. How many of those did I have at Mode when you were my assistant, right?"

"That was different. You always had Wilhelmina trying to undermine everything you did."

"Sure, but even if I didn't there would have been bad days. Did something happen?"

"I'm feeling overwhelmed. I have that meeting on Thursday and I have a stack of redlining to do because I've fallen behind trying to get the presentation ready for the meeting. I feel like the entire weight of the success of Londonesque is falling on my shoulders…"

"It's not," Daniel interrupted her. "You were hired to help Lindsey."

"I know but he's been giving a lot of the responsibility to me, which is wonderful because he's letting me make a lot of decisions about content and he's giving me tons of freedom, but it just feels like so much pressure."

Daniel reassuringly rubbed her shoulder. "You're good with pressure. You just need to take some time and focus. I'm surprised you agreed to meet for dinner. Not that I'm complaining."

"I know, I probably shouldn't have but I ate lunch at my desk and I barely left my office at all today. I needed a break. I will have to go home soon though so I can get back to work."

"Or…you could let me make you dinner while you work a little. Then we can both work after supper. I have some stuff I could do too."

She smiled gently but looked wary. "You are going to make me dinner?"

"Sure. I'll do a stir fry. I think I can handle that. I have to run out to the store first but just wait and see…it'll be great," he replied sweetly and then another thought entered his mind. "And then afterwards, after all our hard work, we can reward ourselves. You can stay over, right?" he smirked mischievously.

Betty smiled bashfully and looked at the floor. "I'd love to but I don't have anything to wear tomorrow. And if I stay I'll have to get up super early to go home before I go into work."

Daniel was disappointed at first but then he had an idea. "Okay, so give me your key and I'll go grab something for you at your flat after I'm done the grocery shopping."

"I don't know…" Betty hesitated.

"What? Are you worried about me going through your underwear, because I've seen you naked, remember?" he teased.

"It's not that." She shook her head.

"Well then what is it?"

"It's just…my closet is a little confusing. I have lots of patterns and colours…" she spoke cautiously.

"You're kidding!" Daniel replied sarcastically.

She gave him a look. "Well, choosing something might be…uh…complicated."

Daniel examined her face trying to figure out the real reason for her hesitation and then it dawned on him. "You don't trust me to pick an outfit for you." He was stunned at first and then it struck him as so funny he started laughing. "Are you afraid I might pick something that doesn't _match_? Patterns or colours that don't coordinate, maybe?"

"Okay, stop," she shoved his shoulder but she was amused by the conversation too; he could tell she was trying her hardest not to laugh. "I have a unique style," she defended, biting her lip as she tried to hide her smile.

"Yes, you do," he agreed, trying really hard to keep himself composed. "Did I ever tell you I run a _fashion_ magazine?" He couldn't help himself, and that started another bout of chuckles.

"Enough, I get it. You are such a riot," she said sarcastically and then added throwing her hands up in the air in mock surrender. "And obviously, completely qualified to pick my clothes. Okay, fine. I'll get my key." She got up and went to her purse to find it. "Just pick something...professional. And I don't mean that in the oldest sense of the word."

He was stunned again. "Are you worried I'm going to pick something that shows too much skin? Why would you even think that?"

"Maybe because the only other time you've ever dressed me, it was in extremely revealing leather and hot pants."

"Ouch! That was a low blow." Daniel cringed a little.

"You're right, it was. I'm sorry. I was just getting even for all the pattern comments," she smiled warmly and sincerely and he knew she meant it and that there wasn't even an ounce of hostility about it. He marvelled, not for the first time, how she moved past things like that and opened up enough to forgive him and be here, together, like they were right now.

"I can't even imagine that you own anything revealing. Do you?" His curiosity was peaked now.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She dug the key chain out of her bag and held it out to him as she walked back toward the sofa

"I would, actually," he admitted with a smirk as he stood up. "And I guess I'll get to find out now that I'm raiding your closet." He reached out to grab the keys.

She pulled the keys back quickly and looked uncomfortable again.

"Relax Betty, no snooping, I promise. Well, beyond what I need to, in order to pick an outfit."

She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "And…"

"And what?"

"And no doing weird stuff with my clothes, and you come back with something decent for me to wear," she finished.

He chuckled a little, wondering what kind of "weird stuff" she thought he'd do. "No nosing, no weird stuff and something decent. I swear. Scout's honour." He held up his fingers.

"Okay, somehow I doubt you were ever a boy scout." She dangled the keys out in front of her.

"Why do you have a key to my place but I don't have a key to yours?" The realization of that fact was just hitting him as he took them from her.

"Because I haven't given you one," she smirked playfully.

"Well, don't you think it's time?"

"Maybe, but I thought you wanted me to move in here so there really wouldn't be much point you having a key to my place if I'm giving it up."

Daniel's heart buoyed, suddenly hopeful. "Does that mean…" he started cautiously.

"It doesn't mean anything, yet," she interrupted quickly. "Just that I'm thinking more and more about it. We haven't tabled this idea for much longer than a week," she reminded him.

He nodded. "You're right. I'm not pushing. I just want to remind you how practical it is. If you lived here all your clothes would be here and…"

"That sounds a little like pushing," she cut him off.

"Not pushing, just reminding," he held his hands up in surrender that time and she smiled.

"Okay, so if you're going all the way to my apartment to get clothes, you might as well grab some food there. I just went shopping last night. I know I have vegetables in the fridge and rice in the cupboard. You might not even need to stop at the grocery store."

"Got it. I'm shopping at your place," he nodded. She looked concerned for a second so he asked, "What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just maybe we should just go to my place it'll save a lot of hassle."

"No. It's fine. You're already here; you can start to work while I'm getting stuff. A ride to your place will just take time out of the evening that you could be working. Besides my place is closer to work so you won't have to get up as early in the morning." A part of him was hoping the more comfortable she got here the easier it would be for her to see the practicality of moving in.

"If you're sure…"

"I'm positive. I'll be back to make dinner in a little while," he smiled assuredly at her, as he kissed her on the cheek and dug out his phone to call a cab.


	29. Dream Team

Daniel not only brought over an outfit and the other stuff she'd need for the next day, but he thoughtfully remembered to bring something comfy she could change into for the evening as well. He'd found a pair of yoga pants and a long sleeve cotton shirt and she put them on almost immediately. He disappeared upstairs to change from his work clothes before trying to tackle dinner.

As he shuffled around the kitchen looking for utensils he'd probably never used before, she had to smile. He looked a little lost but incredibly determined. She offered to help but he adamantly refused saying she needed to work, which was true, but she was also hungry and wondered, if she left him to flounder, how long she might have to wait.

She focused back on work, ignoring the rummaging in the kitchen for the next several minutes and when she looked up again, he was quietly chopping the veggies he'd found in her fridge, stirring the chicken that was in the wok, and his laptop was open beside him on the kitchen counter and he kept peeking at occasionally. He must have found a recipe to help.

Betty managed to get a significant amount of work done before supper but she was still struggling with the layout of the sequence of articles, photos, and commentaries on the Chilean miners trapped underground. She'd been struggling with it, on and off all day, just not able to find the right combination that made sense. It was several pages long and that seemed to be complicating everything. After supper Daniel insisted she get back to work while he cleaned up. Several minutes later she was still staring at the layout because she couldn't get it the way she wanted it.

He was wiping his hands on a towel as he walked over to where she was sitting on his living room floor, the laptop open on her lap as she leaned back against the foot of his leather armchair and stared at the screen and the layout in the program she was working in.

"That's a look of concentration, if ever I've seen one."

"It's not right," she said, feeling discouraged.

He sat down in the chair she was leaning against. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"No, go ahead." She handed him the laptop and stood up to stretch and get a drink of water.

He took several minutes to familiarize himself with the content of the articles while she drank her water, used the washroom and walked around his loft trying to clear her head. Eventually she wandered back over beside the chair and looked over his shoulder.

"What if you put this article first," he pointed to the article in the middle of the spread.

"Why?"

"Well," he was thoughtful for a second before he continued, pointing at the screen. "That would allow you to put these two articles together with this sequence of photos, followed by this commentary because they feel like they should go together." He turned his head up to look at her questioningly.

"I guess. But then this article doesn't fit anywhere." She pointed to the article on the far left. "And it's pretty significant. I don't want to cut it. Plus, then what do I do with this commentary? It would feel like it was just thrown in at the end."

Daniel nodded. Betty sat back down in her spot on the floor against the chair and Daniel handed the laptop back to her. They continued the discussion like that for another twenty or thirty minutes, arranging and rearranging everything several times. Finally, something worked and everything seemed to fit, like completing a jigsaw. Betty smiled as the relief settled in.

"Oh my gosh, I thought I was never go to get that right," she turned her head and smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"I didn't do much; I just offered a few suggestions."

"A few great suggestions that I never would have thought of."

"You would have figured something out eventually," he shrugged it off. He stood up and walked back over to the kitchen to put the towel away. "I think it was the combined effort. Like I've said before: We make good team."

She nodded thoughtfully, looking at the layout, and said softly, "We do, don't we?" Her mind started wandering to the future and other non-publishing related assignments…

_The two of them sitting around a laptop on the table selecting courses for Daniel's program; Daniel smiling proudly as he escorts her to a Londonesque charity event; the two of them arriving at the door of Harrods and immediately spitting up to divide and conquer the Christmas shopping; both of them dragging a Christmas tree up to his loft and decorating it as they drank hot chocolate and listen to Christmas music; an adorable, goofy Daniel babbling incoherently to a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket right before he hands the precious cargo to her and says "I think it's your turn, he's hungry, Betty…Betty…"_

"Betty?" Daniel 's voice snapped her out of her stupor and for some reason she could hardly look at him. _Oh my God, she was NOT just picturing that._ Talk about getting ahead of herself. They hadn't been dating longer than a month and she was nowhere near ready to have a baby! What on earth was wrong with her?

He gave her an odd, concerned look from his position in the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine. Just thinking…" _about having your babies_, she refrained from finishing. She tried to sound nonchalant about it. "Uh, what were you saying?"

He hesitated while he examined her for a second but then didn't pursue it. "I said, I guess I should do some work too, huh? I assume you still have stuff to do?"

"Tons. I still have to red-line all of this." She gestured to the files spread out around her and tried to forget the betrayal of her overactive imagination.

She pulled her red-line pencil out of her bag, grabbed a file, and leaned back against the foot of the armchair, pulling her knees up to use them as a desk while she reclined. Daniel pulled his laptop and some files out of the bag and brought them over to the sofa where he stretched out with it on his lap and the files on the coffee table beside him. They worked companionably like that for a long time. Betty wasn't even really aware of how much time had passed but the sun had set a little while ago. Her eyes were getting blurry and strained, so she paused for a second and looked over at Daniel. He was staring out the window, not at his laptop.

He pushed his laptop aside and hopped up.

"Come on, you're missing it." He grabbed her hand and tugged her up.

"What? What am I missing?"

He let go of her hand long enough to scoot over to the wall switch and flick off the lights so they could see out the enormous window better. He pulled her over and faced her out the window, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her back against his chest.

"Wow." She felt almost speechless as she took it in. "The harvest moon."

The full moon was larger than she ever remembered seeing it in her entire life and the eeriest autumn orange as it shone low over the tops of the trees.

"I know. It's amazing," he agreed. "It almost looks fake, it's so big and bright."

"It does kind of….almost like it's Photoshopped onto the background. I forgot it was happening this week. Did you know this year is the first time in over a decade that the full moon is occurring on the actual autumn equinox – the traditional definition of a harvest moon, by the way," she stated as she stared out the window at it.

Daniel looked down at her with an amused smile. "How do you know that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it's because I read a lot."

"Well I bet you didn't know that it's not really the fact that it's a harvest moon that makes it look so orange, it's the fact it's near the horizon. The thickness of the atmosphere near the horizon lets red light shine through more than blue light so it gives the moon it's orangy-yellow tint," he stated matter-of-factly.

She turned to look at him, completely dumbfounded. "You're right, I did _not_ know that." She smiled, clearly impressed. "Wow, more than just a pretty face. How do _you_ know _that_?" she asked, firing the question back at him.

He shrugged. "I guess it's because I read a lot too." He was pretty evasive about it, not even looking at her and she squinted at him suspiciously so he caved in. "Okay, it's because in college I dated a girl who was studying astrophysics."

"You did not." Betty didn't believe a word of that.

"I did, honest. There were a few hot chicks in the science department," he argued defensively. "She was really goodlooking but it didn't last. She wanted to study all the time and I didn't."

"Imagine my surprise," Betty shook her head.

"And I think I might have offended her once when I told a racy joke about a red giant, a white dwarf, and a supernova, particularly when I got to the part about the black hole and the milky way." He cringed a little with chagrin remembering it and Betty rolled her eyes. Then he looked like he was thinking. "I think the joke went something like..."

Betty held up her hand to stop him. "You know, I don't need to know. In fact, I think I'm better off not knowing."

"Are you sure? It's pretty funny."

"Yeah, I'm positive," she nodded heartily.

They stood peacefully looking out the window for another minute or two and then he started to release her.

She grabbed his arms to stop him and tilted her head back to look at him. "Not yet. Just a few more minutes, okay?"

"As long as you want. I could stay here all night," he squeezed his arms around her and kissed the side of her head.

They stood for another few minutes and then suddenly Daniel exclaimed, "Did you see that?" He pointed out the window. "In the trees, down by the path there was a wolf or something."

Betty chuckled. "Daniel we're in the middle of the city. It was probably someone's dog."

"It wasn't a dog," he was insistent.

"I don't even think they have wolves in England."

His eyes went wide and with a perfectly straight face he said, "Maybe it was a werewolf. It _is_ a full moon."

"Shut up," she shook her head at him.

"What? It could be. Okay so maybe not a werewolf, but what about some other supernatural, paranormal phenomenon hiding in the woods." He lowered his voice to an eerie whisper and continued. "When I was moving in the neighbour told me a creepy story about people going missing in that forest. It's been happening periodically for years. The only trace they find is a single shoe, or glove." Despite how ridiculous his claim was, the dark apartment, his eerie whisper, and the odd sized moon all contributed to the fact that she couldn't help feeling creeped out a little, like she did whenever she watched a scary movie. "Legend has it that in the night, if you're careful, you can see shadows of the creature they suspect is responsible lingering around the path just waiting for his young, naïve, unsuspecting…PREY!" He growled the last word loudly, and simultaneously poked her in the ribs, causing her to start and scream.

She quickly turned and smacked him hard on the shoulder, her heart racing. "Dork."

"Oww." He rubbed his shoulder but he was laughing like it was the most amusing thing he'd seen in a long time. "I can't believe you bought that."

"I did not _buy_ it. I only jumped because you scared me with your voice and that poke," she defended. "And that wasn't funny," she added sternly, crossing her arms.

"Oh come on, it was a little funny," he prodded gently, wrapping his arms around her.

"It wasn't funny, at all," she insisted looking up at him, even though part of her was softening.

He held up his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "It wasn't even an itty-bitty, mouse-sized amount of funny?" he questioned, looking so playful that the rest of her softened.

"A mouse isn't that small," she smirked up into his bright eyes and relaxed into his embrace; all pretense of being annoyed had completely vanished.

He leaned down to kiss her warmly. Betty wrapped his arms tightly around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach him better. He pulled her closer, practically lifting her up as their bodies pressed together.

He slowly lowered her back down when they broke from the kiss. "Mmm…" She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. "I wish I was finished all of my work," she whispered.

"Me too." He leaned his cheek on the top of her head. "Oh well, first things first, right?" He kissed the top of her head affectionately and released her to head back to the sofa.

She sighed lightly, missing the warmth of his arms all of a sudden. She wanted to groan but refused to allow herself to. She loved her job and she wasn't going to complain about it. She mused with a small smile that it was Daniel who pulled them back to work and not the other way around.

The entire break was brief, probably no longer than about ten minutes in total, but it was exactly what she needed and when she reluctantly sat back down to continue her work she was productive again.

* * *

><p>From her position sprawled out on the floor, Betty looked over at his hunched, sleeping form on the couch. His head was resting on his arm which was stretched out over the arm of the sofa. The book he was reading was dangling loosely from his fingers probably one sleep-filled twitch away from being on the floor. Betty wondered how it was possible it hadn't fallen out of his hand yet. It was like it was defying gravity the way it just clung there. His mouth hung open and he hugged a throw pillow up close to his chest with the other arm. He was utterly adorable. He'd finished working a couple of hours before and although he'd tried desperately to stay awake to keep her company, obviously he'd failed that task. Not that she minded. It was late and she was so focused on what she was doing it wouldn't have mattered if he'd gone to bed hours ago. But the thought that he'd tried, for her sake, was so endearing a part of her wished she had some kind of supernatural strength so she could carry him upstairs instead of having to wake him up. In fact, all of this evening endeared him to her more than he already was.<p>

She logged off her laptop and packed up the files she'd finished redlining as she waited for it to power down. After putting everything back in her work bag she walked over to him and crouched down beside the sofa.

"Hey." She shook his shoulder gently. "Hey, wake up, it's time for bed." She smiled at the irony in that statement.

He stirred and blinked a couple of times. Sure enough, the book dropped to the floor and Betty reached over and picked it up, putting it on the coffee table. "Hey," he replied softly. "What time is it?"

"Late," Betty answered. "Come on, let's go to bed." She grabbed his hand and tugged him up.

He looked at the clock on the kitchen stove. "One o'clock!" He muttered his surprise.

"I told you it was late."

"You are going to be so tired tomorrow. Did you finish everything?" he mumbled, half asleep.

"Not everything, but most of it."

He smiled sleepily. They climbed the stairs up to his room and quietly got ready for bed. A few minutes later, Betty climbed in beside him and snuggled into his side. He reached up and clicked off the lamp.

"I think you might be the sweetest man in the world," she whispered as she gave him a tight squeeze.

"Oh yeah?" She could see him grinning even in the dark room thanks to the street lights shining in through the curtains.

"Yeah." She squeezed him again. "I am so lucky. I can't believe you went to my apartment to pick up some clothes for me, and then made me dinner, and then helped me figure out the best order for the articles on that spread, and then stayed up way past your bedtime just so you could keep me company."

"I wasn't too successful with that last one," he said apologetically.

"Who cares? Just that you tried is sweet enough." She stretched up to give him a kiss which he welcomed warmly, turning over onto his side to face her, so he could continue it. She looked at him affectionately. "I'm sorry I wasn't much company tonight."

He smiled sincerely. "I'd rather an uneventful evening of work with you than a party with anyone else."

"Aww." Her heart melted just a little and she put her hand up to her chest. "Oh my gosh, that was it. That last statement was the clincher. You are officially the sweetest man in the world." She moved her hand to his cheek.

"There should be some kind of award for that, don't you think?" he said playfully.

"Did you have something in mind?" She smiled curiously.

"I have a few things in mind." He leaned in to kiss her again and she responded warmly and eagerly. "Wow…that was so…" He paused while he seemed to be searching for the word and landed on "appreciative."

"I am _very_ appreciative," she assured him, kissing his chin.

"It's too bad it's one o'clock in the morning, otherwise I think I'd like to find out how great appreciation sex is."

Betty chuckled. "Appreciation sex would be awesome, I assure you. It's definitely too bad it's so late," she taunted him. "I can't believe Daniel Meade is choosing sleep over sex though; this has to be a first."

"I wasn't choosing sleep over sex," he seemed surprised by the suggestion. "I was thinking I was letting _you_ choose sleep over sex."

"Oh my gosh, you already won the award. Are you banking up points for next year?"

"Can I do that?" he asked with mock seriousness.

She laughed softly, feeling more enamoured with him than she ever had. The time seemed completely irrelevant right now, and sleep so overrated. She lightly ran her fingers over his shoulder and down his arm and back up again before leaning in and kissing him deeply, running her hands through his hair, gently grasping what she could between her fingers. When they broke from the kiss, he immediately leaned in for another one, but instead she pushed him backward onto the bed assertively, threw her leg over him, and sat up on his thighs, running her hands under his t-shirt, across his abdomen and over his chest.

He inhaled sharply. "Or maybe you're not choosing sleep over sex." He smirked up at her, looking thrilled, and caressing his hands softly over her thighs. "And I think I'm really going to like appreciation sex by the way it's starting."

Betty yanked at his t-shirt. He sat up so she could pull it off over his head and she leaned in to kiss him. He slowly slid his hands underneath her shirt and a little gasp escaped before she remembered her resolve, and pushed him back down onto the bed. She grasped his hands in hers firmly, entwining their fingers together and pressing them into the mattress on either side of his head. She leaned down and kissed him again, before taking his earlobe between her teeth and nibbling. He tried to move just a little but she held him firm.

"God, I _love_ appreciation sex," he groaned. "And you are so hot when you're bossy. Are you absolutely sure we should do this, though? It's one o'clock in the morning," he reminded her after another kiss. "And we have to get up for work."

She shrugged. "I'm young and full of spunk and energy, remember? It's you I would be worried about," she teased.

His mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh, you did _not_ just say that." He sat up quickly, taking her completely by surprise and reminding her that the only reason she was holding him down was because he was letting her. She emitted a delighted squeal as he flipped her over onto her back. "I'll show you who is young and full of energy," he promised with a small smirk and bright eyes before he bent down and kissed her wildly.


	30. Old Friends and New Fancies

Mickey didn't get how some people could be so unable to read other people. To him it was basic sociology. The way a person crossed their arms or even their legs when they were interacting, where they looked or didn't look when they were speaking - all of it was so telling.

Take the cute blonde flirting with the designer for example. Sure, the designer was interested in a meaningless fling but it would never amount to more than that. He could tell by the body language –the shameless attempt to touch her in whatever way he could, the not so subtle visual inspection or "checking her out", the leering glint in his eyes. He obviously liked the view, but the lack of blinking and where his eyes were focused when she was speaking were pretty clear indicators that he was slightly bored with their conversation. The eyes were key; they could reveal so much if you paid attention – where they lingered, how often they blinked, how often they glanced away and even in which direction. They really were the windows to the soul. The mouth might be able to lie, but the eyes never could.

He had no idea if the blonde was interested in more than a fling but she seemed to be trying so hard with all the obvious flirtation. And her eyes - if he looked closely - were intense and wide with interest. Her mouth was smiling but the muscles around her eyes weren't relaxed. She was investing a lot of her energy in this and not really having fun with it which would make him believe it was important to her and that perhaps she didn't just want a fling.

They _would_ make quite an attractive couple if you applied a little wax to the guy's eyebrows. And if they survived longer than a one night stand which was unlikely given the vibes he was getting.

Mickey walked over to place the box of props Daniel had asked him to get, on a table. Daniel was strolling around making suggestions, periodically pointing here and there and discussing the set with the photographer. He even occasionally moved a prop or two. It wasn't even the cover shoot, just an accessories spread, but every detail was important. One thing Mickey had learned about Daniel was that he knew what he wanted in a shoot and was determined to get it. He smiled, mildly amused that the new Fashion Editor, Marc, didn't look particularly impressed with Daniel's commanding attitude regarding this particular shoot. In fact, he looked almost annoyed.

He looked back over to the flirting couple. They were so intriguing he couldn't help himself. Sometimes situations like this were so captivating he had to stick around and find out if he was right in his assessment of it. The up-and-coming designer turned away from the blonde so he could fuss with some of his creations on the models for his shoot which was scheduled next. The blonde strutted away in Mickey's direction. She was pretty and confident and, although Mickey wasn't sure why – it was really none of his business – he was kind of routing for her. But she might need a bit of help if she didn't want to be used and thrown aside.

"Obvious," Mickey said as she passed by. It was soft but loud enough to get her attention and sing-songy enough to be slightly taunting so she wouldn't ignore it.

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, assessing him up and down.

"Did you speak to me?" It was said with such pretention, as if she couldn't believe he dared.

"I said you were obvious," Mickey repeated, not intimidated by her in the least.

She squinted suspiciously and put her hand on her hip, thrusting it to the side. Mickey liked her immediately, he could tell she had sass and was bold.

"Who are you and what do you know?" she asked, half seriously and half rhetorically.

Mickey decided to answer anyway. "As for what I know, let's just say: I know people. And if you want that guy to sleep with you and toss you aside, you're well on your way. But if you're interested in more than that then you have to tone it down a bit, luv. And as for who I am: I'm the assistant to the Editor-in-Chief."

Her face opened up as if she'd just recognized him even though he was sure they'd never met before. "Oh, you're Daniel's assistant."

"You know Daniel?" It almost wasn't a question, she spoke with such familiarity it was obvious she did.

"Sure. Daniel and I are old, uh…buddies." She said it with a straight face but the way she searched for the word (and what an odd word to use) there was something very telling in that statement. "Oh, and I used to be his assistant."

Mickey was confused. "I thought Betty used to be his assistant."

"She was, before me." The blonde held out her hand in greeting. "I'm Amanda."

"I'm Mickey." He shook her hand.

The pieces were starting to fit. "So you used to work for Daniel," Mickey said out loud just as method of clarifying it in his head.

"Among other things," Amanda added with a bit of a smirk, the implication obvious.

"You sound like you know Betty too."

"Sure, Betty and I are tight. We used to be roomies."

This was very interesting and complex. The ex-girlfriend was also the ex-roomie. He wanted more details but didn't want to seem nosy.

"Betty's great," he commented casually. "And she and Daniel seem to be close."

"She is great," she agreed sincerely. "And it makes sense that they're close, they've always had a special connection," she commented equally as casually.

Now he was really confused because that seemed like an extremely odd comment coming from an ex-girlfriend about a new girlfriend, especially given how sincere it was. "Always? I kind of thought this was a new romance."

"Oh, I don't mean romantically." She broke out laughing so violently it startled him at first. "That's hilarious. Wait 'til I tell Marc." She gasped between hysterical laughter.

"I don't get it," Mickey said, completely baffled.

She held up her finger to get him to hold on while she calmed her outburst. "Oh, I'm sorry. The image of that Betty and Daniel…" she started giggling again. "Oh my God, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. It's just, you should have seen her when she first started at Mode. Betty's undergone a complete transmutation. Daniel too, in some ways."

Mickey was confused but Marc breezed by at just that moment, overhearing the last part of her sentence, and paused to translate. "She means transformation. Although, in this particular instance she's not far off. And don't worry, you get used to it." He gestured to Amanda, and then continued walking so he could finish organizing the set.

"The eyebrows, the bangs, the braces, the outfits – Marc and I used to have such fun mocking her," Amanda continued.

"That does sound like fun," Mickey concurred.

"It was. I'll show you some pictures sometime. Oooh, and that blog."

"Blog?"

Amanda laughed lightly again. "Yeah. Marc took pictures daily and posted them on the internet. But we were talking about me before all of this and that's more important."

Mickey grinned. He really did like her. She wasn't the brightest spotlight in the theatre, but she was an adorable, paradoxical combination of sweet and catty. Plus she was fabulous with her style and sass. Really, what wasn't to like?

* * *

><p>Marc rearranged the placement of a few of the props being used in the background.<p>

"Marc, I just moved those." He heard Daniel's voice behind him, approaching him.

"And I'm moving them back," Marc retorted matter-of-factly, not even turning to look at him as he, instead, focused on straightening a sheet covering a crate before placing some accessories on it.

"Why?"

"Because they look better this way. Really Daniel, you said you needed someone with my eye. This is why you hired me, so you didn't have to have your nose in all of this," Marc reminded him, getting a little frustrated with his intrusion. This was Marc's shoot - his concept, his layout and all of it had been coordinated with Elaine and already signed-off on by Daniel. What was he doing down here moving stuff around anyway? "Don't you have Editor-in-Chief stuff to be doing?" He turned around and glared at him.

Daniel stared back for a second but then blinked and looked away. "Fine. Whatever. Just make sure the shoes are—"

"Nuh!" Marc clamped his fingers and thumb together quickly in front of Daniel's mouth which startled him into silence. "Whose shoot is this? I'm pretty sure I have this under control. Would you just trust me?" He turned his attention to the assistant who was helping place some of the accessories around the set. "Not there." He shook his head and pointed to a different staged area. "On that one."

Daniel sighed and looked around the set. "Okay, I trust you. I just don't want to have to work late because of a messed up shoot again."

"I get it. We don't want any intrusion on your Betty time." Marc spoke as if he was talking to a preschooler. He rolled his eyes as he spun Daniel to face the other direction practically shoving him out of the studio.

Daniel stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. "When, exactly, did you grow balls?" he wondered.

"I've always had balls, Daniel," Marc said with nonchalance. "But when you're in a subservient relationship with Wilhelmina there's only room for one pair. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out whose are bigger and who is going to have to shelve theirs for the duration. And continuing with that analogy, now that I've 'dusted them off' I fully intend to use them."

Daniel grimaced a little at the image, but then nodded that his argument seemed to make sense. Marc spun him around, pointing him toward the door again.

"Trust me with this, Daniel," he urged once more, giving him the tiniest shove.

As soon as the photographer started shooting and Marc was confident it was going well, he breezed over to Mickey and Amanda who were still standing chatting.

"Soooo, we're talking about Betty?" he asked, delighted for a little gossip.

"We've so moved beyond Betty," Amanda informed him lightly. "We were talking about me for a while and I was just about to tell Mickey about that time you dressed as a hotdog bun and danced around to help Betty with—"

Marc quickly grabbed a finger sandwich off of the lunch cart that was conveniently being rolled by at just that moment, and stuffed it into Amanda's mouth.

"Oh yes, well, I always have been one to help my colleagues whenever they need it," Marc said modestly to Mickey. "It's important to make your coworkers look good. Even if they don't need much help." He eyed Mickey up and down hoping he wasn't being too subtle.

"Marc, these are carbs!" Amanda complained as she pulled the sandwich out of her mouth. "And not even sweet ones."

Marc ignored her and continued. "They used to say I was the most cooperative employee at the company…"

"Who used to say that?" Amanda asked, astounded.

Marc ignored her again. "I even won an award for collaboration once."

Mickey smiled and looked impressed. "Really?"

Amanda laughed abruptly again. "Marc? An award for collaboration? I highly doubt it."

Marc gave her a look to try and communicate that she was blowing this for him. "Of course I did Amanda. You remember, don't you?" He glared at her, eyes wide, looking for backup.

She didn't clue in and instead asked, completely seriously, "Wait, what does collaboration mean? Does it mean whining and kissing ass—Oww!" Marc had subtly grabbed her elbow and squeezed tightly.

"Kissing ascots. I'm so fond of ascots. They are such a unique neck accessory, don't you thinK? And she meant wine, not whining. Silly girl; there we go again with her confusing her words. I'm also really fond of wine, red in particular." Marc was so desperate in his attempt to cover up Amanda's ass kissing comment he wasn't really thinking clearly.

Mickey hadn't noticed how bizarre he was being, or else he was too polite to say. "Well, I had better get back upstairs. Daniel probably needs me. Just remember what I said, luv." He directed the last part toward Amanda and gave a little wink.

"Sure." She smiled at him.

Marc nodded and smiled as Mickey turned and left. He stood watching Mickey's tight behind in the Calvin Klein dress pants he was wearing, as he walked out of the studio.

"Kissing ascots?" Amanda looked at him like he was nuts.

"I had to cover up your comment," Marc defended.

"Yeah. 'Cause it makes you look so much better that you make out with eccentric neckwear than that you suck up to your boss. And seriously Marc, what does collaboration mean?" Amanda asked him again.

"It doesn't matter Mandy. What was all that 'luv' and winky-wink stuff about?" He was aware as soon as he said it how jealous he sounded.

"Oh relax, he's still as queer as you are. He's just giving me some tips on picking up the designer, Chris or Dave or whatever his name is," Amanda said lightly.

"I'll give you tip: Learn the guy's name," Marc suggested with a roll of his eyes before he realized he didn't understand her statement. "Hold on a second. Why is the gay guy giving _you_ tips on picking up straight men?"

"Let's face it Marc, I'm not exactly a pro on anything more than meaningless flings. Mickey gave me some advice so hopefully this guy takes me more seriously than that. He's got this fifth sense about people. He just seems to know what works."

Marc sighed and looked off dreamily. "I know. Good looking, stylish, and smart." He snapped himself out of his stupor because that reminded him of the point he had to make. He took hold of both of Amanda's arms just above the elbows to emphasize how serious he was. "Listen to me. No making me look bad in front of Mickey. That means no hotdog bun stories, no Gyllenhaal stories, and no Dude Cruise stories."

"Oww, Marc, stop…" she whimpered, looking down at his hands on her arms and he immediately released them.

"Oh, sorry. Was I hurting you?"

"Of course not, you always fall for that," she said smugly. "But I get it, Marc. You have a crush on the new guy."

"Technically, I'm the new guy Mandy. And I don't have a crush. I just think he's cute." They started walking back over to the photographer and the shoot.

Amanda sighed and looked sympathetically at him, shaking her head. "Oh Marc. I would just give it up if I were you. It'll never work out."

"What are you talking about? Why?" Marc paused, wondering if she knew something he didn't. His heart fell; maybe he was already in a relationship.

She stopped walking too. "There are a couple of reasons. For one, he has to be at least an eight, especially with that foreign language thing he has going on. Did you know he speaks Pig Latin or something? I heard him talking to the photographer."

"I think it's French," Marc corrected her.

"Whateves." She put her hand on her hip. "My point is: He's out of your league. He's an eight and you are, at best, a six on your good days."

Marc's mouth dropped open in offense. "I am _not_ a six. You say that all the time."

"I say it all the time because it's true," Amanda insisted. "And for another, he's too girly."

Marc gave her an odd look. "Hello, have we met?"

"That's my point, Marc. You're both the woman. That would cause a whole lot of conflict in a relationship." She thought about it for a second. "Although, you could give each other pedicures," she offered hopefully and Marc nodded thoughtfully at that. "Oh who are we kidding? What would happen if you ever wanted to get married? You'd both have a colossal hissy fit over who gets to be the bride. The wedding would be cancelled and you'd have to return all of your gifts, even the tasteful, expensive ones you liked." She sighed sadly and Marc was extremely disappointed as they both envisioned it. "Nope, it's best to avoid such consumeristic heartache. You need a gay that's more like a man...like Rupert Everett."

"Rupert Everett? He was hot in his day, but oh my God, he's ancient." Marc thought for a minute. "But he is funny, and rich, and talented, and he lives in this country too," he added very hopefully.

"Okay, I didn't mean _the_ Rupert Everett," Amanda clarified and then she laughed abruptly. "As if. And you think Mickey is out of your league."

"I don't think Mickey's out of my league," Marc corrected her harshly. "You do."

"Oh right," she nodded and then her tone changed and there was hope in it. "But you know, Daniel did fall for Betty and that's like ten to one."

"The odds?" he asked, a little confused.

"Odds?" Amanda asked as if the word was completely foreign to her, which maybe it was. She ignored it and continued. "I meant Daniel is a ten and Betty is a one."

"Oh." Marc nodded.

She looked thoughtful. "Although, maybe Betty is more like a three now that she has gotten rid of the metal and fixed her hair and glasses…maybe even a four." She considered it some more and then added, "Mmmm, plus she has that exotic Mexican flavour which might even bump her up to a five."

Marc nodded, shrugged and emitted a conciliatory "eh" before absorbing what she was saying. "Wait. If Betty's a five, there is no way I'm a six."

Amanda rolled her eyes exasperated. "Fine. Alright. You're a six and a half." She knocked on his head.

"What did you do that for?"

"I'm knocking on wood. Aren't you supposed to do that when you tell a little white lie?" she asked with utmost sincerity.

"Ugh…" he grunted in frustration and walked away, leaving her standing there completely perplexed.

* * *

><p>Betty had just exited the elevators into the atrium of the Mode offices and was about to head up to see Daniel when she heard it.<p>

"Oh. My. God. Oh my God! Betty!" Amanda's squeal echoed throughout the atrium and everyone turned to look at her. Betty looked up just in time to see her scurry from the railing to the stair case where she shuffled down it as fast as her stilettos could carry her. "Betty, there you are. Why have you been hiding? Is it because winter's coming and you need to hibernate?" Amanda asked, completely seriously, as she threw her arms around her and squeezed so tightly that Betty had trouble breathing. She relaxed her hold slightly, but only so she could stroke her hair. "Mmmm…soft and squishy. I missed this. I missed the us we used to be together." Amanda gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

"I haven't been hiding, Amanda. I've been trying to get us altogether for dinner but Marc keeps saying you guys are busy." Betty explained, a little startled. She'd expected to run into Amanda one of the times she'd come to see Daniel but she hadn't quite expected such an enthusiastic greeting.

"Oh that Marc, you know how he hates to eat." Amanda brushed it off and they started walking. "I can't believe you came all this way to see me."

"Well, actually I came—" She was going to say that she came to see Daniel but Amanda interrupted her.

"Never mind. I guess I understand. It's been so long since we've seen each other, I could hardly blame you." Amanda stopped walking as if she just realized something and put her hand on Betty's arm to stop her too. "Was it a long trip? Are you tired? Do you need to sit down? Oh, or maybe you've been sitting so long you need to walk. Should we walk?" Her concern would have been sweet if it was at all warranted.

"I only work a couple of blocks away, Amanda" Betty told her, wondering where, exactly, Amanda thought she had come from.

"Oh yeah." Amanda replied as if it was all coming back to her. "For that restaurant or something."

"Magazine," Betty corrected her. "Londonesque, remember?" She hoped some of this would ring a bell.

"Oh right." Amanda looked like it was starting to come back to her.

"So how are things with you? Daniel said you've been doing some work?"

Amanda's face lit up. "I have. You should see the set we built."

Betty was extremely puzzled. "You built a set?" She couldn't be really be certain Amanda meant that the way it sounded. In fact, logic would argue that vehemently.

"Did we ever. It's like World War Two came to life in the photo studio of Mode." Amanda actually looked proud of her accomplishment. And yes, it did seem like she'd meant that the way it sounded. "Come on, I want to show you." She linked her arm with Betty's and dragged her down the hall toward the studio.

They arrived at the back of the offices where the studios were. The security guard put his hand up to stop them.

"It's okay." Amanda lifted the pass, hanging from a lanyard around her neck, so that he could see it clearer. "I know she doesn't look like she belongs, but she's with me." She gestured to Betty and the guard let them both pass.

Amanda pulled open the door on the left. "Marc's doing an accessories shoot in that one." She gestured to the second studio. "But this is the one we've been working in for the cover. They're shooting it tomorrow. Plus, I'm going to be a stylist for a clothing line spread later this week. Things are really hopping here, Betty."

Betty looked around as they walked in and was astonished by the set and how realistic it was. The varying shades of army green and rusty brown on a large backdrop with sandbags, crates and Styrofoam rocks in front made it feel as if they were in an army bunker. "Wow. Amanda, you did this?"

"Well, not by myself. There were a few of us." She walked over to the section on the right and posed, arms extended Vanna White style, in front of it. "I painted this part," she said proudly.

"Oh my God." Betty's mouth dropped open, flabbergasted. She wasn't sure if it was more surprising that she'd actually done physical labour or that she was proud of it.

"I know," Amanda agreed. "I did manual labour. I'm as shocked as you are. I used to think all that 'pride in your work' junk was a tool average looking people, who had to do real work for a living, used to make themselves feel better. But there is actually something to be said for job satisfaction."

"I've been telling you that for years, Amanda." Betty was proud of her; Amanda was really growing.

"You tell me lots of things, Betty but I only pay attention to the really good stuff. Like how you frequently have erotic dreams about Marc and how that dorky accountant with the rock hard abs was 'the best you've ever had', even to this day."

"I _never_ told you either of those things, Amanda," Betty stated adamantly, her eyes going wide at both suggestions. She quickly looked around to make sure neither Marc nor Daniel were within earshot.

"Whatever." Amanda shrugged it off. "So now what?" She looked at Betty expectantly.

"Well, actually I came to meet Daniel for lunch," Betty said cautiously, hoping not to offend her.

"Oh right. You and Daniel." She smiled warmly. "I have to tell you Betty, I am so happy for you two."

"Really? It's not…weird?"

"Weird?" She seemed confused but then she nodded as if she suddenly understood. "Oh, you mean because of that 'fun buddy' stuff. Nah. That was a short term arrangement for our mutual benefit. That whole thing between us was completely physical." Betty tried with all that was in her not to cringe and she thought she was pretty successful except for maybe a slight squinting of the eyes. Amanda continued, completely sincerely. "You are the kindest, sweetest person I know and you deserve to be happy. Plus, you and Daniel have something special - that survival thing, that revolution or whatever, and I know you'll be successful at helping him make babies."

"What? What!" Betty had no idea what Amanda was going on about but knowing Amanda she was mixing her metaphors or confusing something she'd read – okay, more likely heard – so she decided it would be futile to try and figure it out. "Well…uh, thanks."

"Oh Bettylicious, I've missed you so much." Amanda grabbed her shoulders.

Betty returned the warm smile Amanda was giving her and her heart filled up. "I've missed you too, Amanda. I'm really glad you came to London and you're working here at Mode," she replied giving her a huge hug. And she meant it. Every word.


	31. Stolen Moments

Daniel was slightly distracted all morning. He'd managed to accomplish enough that he wasn't feeling incredibly guilty about it but he certainly wasn't as productive as he usually was on a Wednesday morning. Marc kicking him out of the photo-shoot wouldn't have bothered him because he felt like he could trust Marc's vision for it, except that at least there he was able to focus on something. Here, at his desk, he'd work for a few minutes and then start thinking about last night and Betty again. He hadn't been this "distracted" at work for a long time. Ironically, probably since his dad had hired Betty as his assistant.

He sat back, crossed his hands behind his head and smiled. Being with Betty was so much better than he had anticipated, even in his most imaginative moments. The emotional connection was a no-brainer – it was there long before the romance even started but it was deeper and more intense than he ever imagined it could be. On top of that, this new physical connection was blowing his mind lately. Working with her for four years he'd been aware how enthusiastic, energetic, and exuberant she was about everything – work, family, life - and yet somehow he had never realized before that that kind of passion would translate into, well…passion.

Probably one of the hottest things, he was starting to realize, was that there was so much more to her than the sweet, endearing, adorable front she portrayed to most of the world. For one thing, she was fiery. For another, she was much more adventurous than he'd expected she would be. And that commanding, forceful demeanor she was wearing last night was new. He'd turned the tables only briefly when she'd made that smart innuendo about him being old but she quickly turned it around again and he let her because, man, was she hot when she knew what she wanted. Bossy Betty shouldn't have surprised him. It's not like it was a foreign concept - she'd often been pushy and bossy when they worked together and she was determined about something. Bossy in bed though,…she'd hid that nicely for the week and a bit they'd been getting to "know" each other. How often would he get to see that? He made a mental note to make sure she knew he liked it, a lot.

He started thinking about last night again, not for the first time that morning, when suddenly Mickey buzzed him on the phone.

"Daniel, Betty is here. She said you're supposed to be meeting for lunch?"

"Tell her I'll be right there." He hopped up, walked over to the door and pulled it open. "Hey," he grinned at her.

She was standing by Mickey's desk and she smiled warmly. "Hey yourself. Are you ready?"

"I…uh…I just need to do something for a couple of minutes," he gestured back into his office.

"Oh. Well, I could just wait here," she suggested pointing to the chairs against the wall.

"No, no, why don't you come in? I could use your advice."

"Really?" She grinned her sweet, flattered grin and he felt only moderately guilty that he didn't really need her advice on anything.

He gently guided her into his office with his hand on the small of her back and closed the door. She wandered over to his desk and he subtly twisted the lock on the doorknob before joining her.

"So what do you need my advice on?" she asked, her expression open and accommodating.

"Uh…" He looked around quickly and than dragged "the book" over to the corner of his desk, flipping it open and desperately scanning for something he could offer. He stopped when his eye caught a bright, whimsical pair of stilettos and he pointed to the article. "Here. This is it." He tapped the article with his finger.

She looked at it for a second skimming it quickly. "Really Daniel? You want my opinion on an article about the challenges of picking up men when your favourite heels make you taller than the average male?" she looked at him skeptically.

He quickly looked down at the book. Sure enough, that was the one he'd pointed out.

His cover was blown so there really wasn't any point continuing the charade. "Uh, okay, not really. I just wanted to do this…" He pulled her close and ran his fingers over her soft silky hair before bending down to give her a slow, ardent kiss.

"You didn't need to make something up, you know," she smiled and ran her hands across his shoulders. Her touch, combined with memories of last night stirred something in him like he was fifteen again.

"No? Should I have said 'come on in Betty, I feel like fooling around before we grab some lunch?' " He asked her with a smirk.

"Classy," she commented sarcastically.

"Besides, it was more for Mickey. I'm pretty sure the 'I have to grab my jacket' line isn't working. He asked me if he needed to order a different style coat hook since it seems to take me so long to get my jacket off it when I need to go for lunch."

Betty's mouth dropped open with a start. "No. He did not."

"Oh yes, he really did." Daniel nodded seriously.

"I saw Amanda downstairs," Betty said lightly, changing the subject and causing Daniel to automatically tense.

"Oh, yeah? I haven't seen her today," he replied trying to sound casual, although his anxiety level had increased at the mention of Amanda's name.

"You know, I really missed her. I'm glad she's here." She smiled sincerely and Daniel started to relax. "She said she's happy for us," Betty added softly.

"Really?" Daniel was surprised, not so much at the sentiment – he knew Amanda had a sweet side – but that Amanda had been able to communicate it without some other blunt statement or question that would bother Betty. "Soooo, everything's, uh, good then?" he asked cautiously.

Betty smiled again, understanding what he meant. "Everything's good," she assured him.

He relaxed completely now, even sighing lightly. "Well, good. I'm glad. Thanks for coming for lunch. I know you're busy."

"I am, but last night with my incredibly thoughtful boyfriend helped a lot. I feel much more in control of things."

"You were pretty in control of things last night," he teased, causing her to smile and look down.

"I don't remember hearing you complaining," she said, looking back up at him with her eyebrows raised.

"That's because I wasn't. I'm still not," he grinned and then he bent down closer to her and said softly. "I can't stop thinking about last night. You were right, appreciation sex is awesome. And Bossy Betty is so hot. Gah…" He emitted a throaty exhale, throwing his head back and buckling slightly at the knees as he envisioned it again.

Betty chuckled and shook her head at his theatrics and then looked at him curiously. "Bossy Betty?"

"It's appropriate don't you think?" He asked, his eyebrows raised. "Anyway, thinking about last night is making me…well…you know."

"Last night was pretty great," she agreed. "And yes, I think I do know."

She smiled up at him, a slight blush on her cheeks. He loved the way she could be so uninhibited and sexy when they were together but blushed so easily when it came to talking about it. Especially since she was so adorable with her cheeks slightly pink like they were. He bent down to press his lips into hers delicately at first but she eagerly responded and he found himself deepening the kiss. In seconds their kisses became impassioned, almost urgent, and Daniel undid the buttons of her brightly coloured overcoat. He grabbed the lapels of the coat so he could assist her out of it. Well actually, just get it out of the way because it was interfering. He threw it to the ground and Betty looked at it on the floor and then at him and furrowed her brow.

"It was in the way," he whispered breathlessly, hoping she wouldn't hold his hasty actions against him.

The red wrap dress that he'd found in her closet last night seemed to hang perfectly. It looked very professional with the short black jacket that he'd picked to accessorise it, even if he did say so himself.

"Nice outfit," he mumbled as he kissed her again.

"Thanks. I have a great stylist. He runs his own fashion magazine." She ran tiny kisses across his jaw line slowly and he closed his eyes for a moment savouring it.

"You're lucky." He said absently, gliding his finger across her shoulders.

She stopped what she was doing immediately and looked into his eyes with complete sincerity. "Oh my gosh, I really am."

Daniel felt the intensity of the deeper meaning in that and it made him want her even more. He slid his hands over her shoulders, underneath the jacket and slipped it off expertly, also tossing it to the ground. She was about to comment - her mouth opening in protest - but before allowing her the opportunity he kissed her again and ran the tips of his fingers down over her arms and then around her waist. When she quivered slightly and responded enthusiastically, he was pretty confident he'd succeeded in distracting her from her items being abandoned haphazardly on the floor. He pulled her even closer so he could feel her curves emancipated from the excesses garments and she wrapped her arms around him.

"I am so glad…you have walls…. in this office," she whispered between kisses.

He turned her so that her back was to the desk and lifted her up onto it.

"Mmm, me too." He muttered against her lips.

It wasn't uncommon for them to share heated kisses and even make out a little once he'd closed his office door but today Daniel just didn't think that would cut it. Memories of last night spurred him on. Plus, she looked so hot in that dress – the way it accentuated all her curves. But as hot as it was he was starting to find it frustrating because it was covering too much so now he tugged at the knotted belt on the side of it.

Betty pulled back a little, breathless. "Whew…I think we should cool down."

"Cool down? I'm just getting warmed up," Daniel protested, leaning in and kissing her again.

She pulled back again and looked at him curiously. "You have that look. I thought we were going out for lunch."

"We are. In a few minutes," he kissed her deeply again and with one more tug the knot came loose.

She looked down at it and then back at him tilting her head questioningly. He smiled slyly and raised his eyebrows, communicating his intent without words.

"Daniel, it's the middle of a work day…in your office." She whispered it the way she did when she was both appalled and equally thrilled by the naughtiness of something; God, he loved when she whispered like that because his brief experience with her had taught him that he could sway her to the naughty side with a little suave persuasion like he'd used when he'd convinced her to meet him at his loft for "lunch".

"It doesn't have to take long. I'm halfway warmed up already. Just give me five minutes."

"Five minutes?" She looked at him with disbelief.

"Okay, maybe ten."

"Sounds like fun," she said sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

"It will be, I promise." He leaned in close. "Walls and a door that locks, Betty," he reminded her with a whisper in her ear which he recently discovered she had trouble resisting. "I locked it when you came in."

She looked at him suspiciously but with amusement. "That kind of makes this premeditated."

"I was just incredibly optimistic. I think you're rubbing off on me. I still am…uh…optimistic, that is." He looked at her questioningly.

"Never in a hundred million years…" She shook her head slowly. But she hesitated and had a twinkle in her eye that he knew, he just knew, meant she was considering it and only needed another gentle prod.

"Nobody ever has to know." He leaned in and whispered again, making sure his breath was on her ear and his tone as seductive as he could make it. He was pretty sure the subtle grazing of her breasts, as he slid his hands along her side, wouldn't hurt either. "It'll be our little secret that we had a brief, torrid, tryst right in my office, midday, while the rest of the world is oblivious. Think of how hot that is."

"Oh my God, I can't believe I'm saying this: You have five minutes," she said as she exhaled deeply like she'd been holding her breath, and definitely like she was secretly excited about it. It was all he could do to contain his enthusiasm and not fist pump or high five or do something else incredibly lame that would ruin the moment.

"I said ten," he reminded her with a smirk.

"Don't push it."

He certainly did bring out the crazy woman in her because as hopeful as he was about convincing her to do this, he knew it was a long shot, and yet, somehow he had succeeded. He pounced again, taking her head in both of his hands and kissing her with everything that was in him.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she murmured into his hair as he kissed the side of her head, her jaw, her neck. "This feels so 'old Daniel' and like I'm one of your bimbos."

"I know, isn't it hot?" He muttered without really thinking. She pushed him back a little and looked at him like she couldn't believe he just said that. "I mean…uh… you are so _not_ a bimbo." He knew he should have come up with something better but it was all his distracted brain could conceive in the moment.

Relief flooded him when Betty just shook her head and rolled her eyes but she didn't seem offended. Despite the temporary impairment of his cognitive functioning he knew now was definitely NOT the time to remind her that technically all those encounters in his office with his "bimbos" occurred after hours.

Talking around the kisses he was placing on her neck he said, "Thankfully…this isn't… Mode in New York. The glass walls…would be the death…of me."

He wished he'd kept his mouth shut because she suddenly tensed and pushed him back, obviously reminded of something. What was with him and his mouth disconnected from his brain this afternoon?

"Wait. Is there a security camera?" Her eyes scanned the office.

He shrugged but didn't answer and tried to kiss her neck again.

"Daniel?" She held him off with her hand on his chest, waiting for his answer.

He groaned softly and hung his head, defeated.

"So much for nobody knowing." She looked at him pointedly.

"I can bribe the security guy for the tape…" he offered, despite the fact he knew Betty wouldn't go for it. She wasn't the type to give anyone a show, even the lonely security guy.

She didn't even bother responding to his suggestion. "I can't believe I was seriously going to do that. Here. Right now. What has happened to my self-control? And my common sense? And my common decency?" Apparently she'd snapped out of aroused haze he'd just had her in.

"Nothing happened to them Betty. You're making too much of this. We're two consenting adults behind closed doors. It would have been completely private."

"Apart from the security tape and the live show for the security guy, you mean." Her expression was emphatic.

"Yeah, apart from that," he grinned feebly.

"You are such a bad influence." She shook her head at him.

"I'm a fun influence," he said, realizing it would have sounded better if he'd kept the whine out of his tone. He removed the whine completely and added with a much lower voice and a wolfish grin, "It really would have been fun."

She smiled softly, relaxing a little. "I know." Her eyes locked with his with such intensity he wished he could smash the stupid camera, and he definitely wanted to whimper, but he didn't. She gave his shoulder a tiny shove and then pointed her finger in his face. "And stop with that look. That's the kind of thing that makes me lose my head and will get us into trouble one of these days." She did the belt back up and slipped off of his desk. "Okay, I have to know. Did you forget about the security camera or just not care?"

"A little of both," he admitted only slightly remorseful.

She tilted her head to the side ever so subtly and looked slightly disappointed in him.

"Hey, it was your fault," he defended.

"My fault?" Her mouth dropped open. "How was it my fault?"

"My brain was temporarily impaired by those curves in that dress…"

"I was wearing a coat," she reminded him. "And a jacket."

"But I knew. I saw you this morning," he defended himself again and she shook her head with a small smile.

She straightened out the front of his shirt and his tie affectionately. "We'll continue this tonight," she promised. "Let's go for lunch."

He sighed and then bent down to pick her coat and jacket up off of the floor for her and handed it to her.

* * *

><p>Daniel and Betty slipped by Mickey's desk as he finished typing the report he was getting ready for Daniel's meeting this afternoon.<p>

Several minutes later, after it was printed and bound, he entered Daniel's office to place it on his desk. Approaching the desk he noticed a phone so he placed the report on the desk and then stooped down to pick it up. It wasn't Daniel's so it was probably Betty's. He was about to put it on Daniel's desk when he thought of something. He hit a button but it had a password so he couldn't access the information. He stood there for a minute thinking, and then made a decision. Bringing the phone out to his desk he looked something up and then tried it as the password. It worked. Typical. He was surprised she didn't carry around a notebook covered in heart doodles with Daniel's name scribbled in centre of them. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. Thank goodness for near corporate monopolies in the smartphone industry; the USB cable for his phone would work with hers too and he already had the software downloaded. He grabbed the cord from his desk drawer and plugged the phone into his computer. Clicking a few buttons, and entering her password again, he waited as the information transferred. When the image on the screen indicated it was complete, he unplugged it, got up and put it back down in the exact spot he had found it, partway underneath Daniel's desk.

Back at his desk he fiddled with the information, converting the contact list into a spread sheet he could edit. _Just the advertising contacts, that was all he needed. _ He would delete the other information immediately. He wasn't even going to peek at her calendar and see if she had any appointments with these advertisers. He wasn't a snoop, or a thief...more like a borrower. And only because he had no other option. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Mode was desperate. So was Mickey. All of this reminded him he needed to make a quick phone call.

He pulled out his cell, dialed a number and waited. The call went to voicemail and he got that tiny feeling of dread he usually did whenever that happened, even though there could be half a dozen completely benign reasons why it had. He left his message.

"Hello, it's me. I was able to get off a little early today so everything is on, as planned. I'll pick you up at around four thirty. See you then."

About forty minutes later Daniel and Betty returned from their lunch sharing a laugh about some story Betty was telling.

"Hi Mickey," Betty smiled warmly to greet him and he nodded and smiled back.

Daniel opened his office door and almost immediately he said, "I told you. It's right here." He entered the office and Betty followed.

"Oh thank goodness," Mickey heard her say. "I thought I'd lost it for sure. No more tossing my coat on the ground in your haste to undress…" She stopped and then he couldn't hear exactly what else she'd said because she'd started whispering.

There was an embarrassed giggle and a chuckle and then Daniel's door closed.


	32. Cover Girls

_Thanks again, everyone, for the encouraging reviews. This update isn't as long but that's because I'm deliberately holding back a couple of chapters so I can update sooner next time. I hate leaving the story hanging for so long between updates._

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><p>"Aah! Keira Knightley. Are you serious? I love her!" Betty clapped her hands together a couple of times and Daniel smiled at her exuberance from across the café table. She feigned an accent and started quoting enthusiastically. "'Are you proud Mr. Darcy? And would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?'" Daniel cocked his head to the side, confused, so Betty explained as if she was just jogging his memory, "Elizabeth Bennett?" He shook his head and shrugged lightly; he didn't get it. She looked stunned. "Pride and Prejudice?" she clarified, sounding a little astounded that he didn't know what she was talking about. "Don't tell me you don't know Pride and Prejudice."<p>

"I've heard of it," he defended. "I just don't know what it has to do with Keira Knightly."

"Oh my gosh! Only one of the best film adaptions of a Jane Austin classic. Ever. And she's Elizabeth Bennett in it." She suddenly got that determined look of hers. "We are so renting that movie this weekend."

"Great," Daniel responded with absolutely no enthusiasm.

"Consider it research for your Keira cover shoot," she suggested, smiling sweetly.

"We're taking her picture, not writing her biography."

"Yeah but you don't want to look like a complete idiot when you meet her like you did with Victoria Valez," she retorted absently. Daniel glared at her and she threw up her hands in surrender. "I'm kidding. Sheesh, sensitive. Anyway, it's a good movie, you'll like it."

"Is there shooting and/or sex?" Daniel asked, already knowing the answer.

"No!" Betty sounded appalled and then she thought for a second. "Okay, so maybe you'll tolerate it." She thought again. "Or fall asleep in the middle of it. But I'll like it, so we're still renting it."

"What about Pirates of the Caribbean? That's one of hers too and at least there's some action," Daniel suggested forking in a mouthful of salad. He chewed for a minute and then continued speaking as he examined a weird shaped grape tomato on his plate. "Plus she's hot in those, running around in her wench outfit, brandishing that huge sword. You have to love a woman with—" He glanced up and noticed it was Betty's turn to glare now. "Uh…I mean her acting was superb in those."

"Haven't you seen all of those?"

"Sure but I could watch them again."

"Or we could watch Pride and Prejudice and you could broaden your cinematic horizons," Betty suggested in that way that meant he wasn't going to win this one.

"Or that," he conceded with a soft sigh wondering if a romantic movie would put Betty in the mood and that might make it worthwhile. Oh, who was he kidding? Betty was almost always in the mood anyway; he didn't need to torture himself for that cause. Unless… "Is there appreciation sex involved if I watch a movie you want to see even though I have no interest in it?" he asked mischievously.

"Only if you stay awake," she teased with a smirk.

"For the movie or the sex?" He ducked just in time to avoid the wadded napkin which sailed onto the table of the people eating behind them.

"Uh…sorry." Betty cringed apologetically at them as her face went a soft shade of pink. "It slipped."

Daniel tried hard to contain his laughter but he wasn't very successful.

"Stop," she whispered as she glared at him again but she was trying not to laugh as well. "They're going to kick us out of here. I can't believe you made me do that."

"I _made_ you throw your napkin?" he asked, astonished that she was blaming him.

"You weren't supposed to duck."

"It could have been worse. At least they weren't eating soup," Daniel suggested to make her feel better.

"So, uh, do you think maybe you could let me know when you're doing the shoot? Maybe I could meet you for lunch that day." She smiled sweetly.

Daniel grinned. "Oh sure, when you want something you're all sweet. A second ago you were going to take my head off."

"With a napkin?" she asked skeptically.

He shrugged and then reached across the table for her hand, giving her the biggest grin. "I'll let you know what day we're doing the shoot."

She smiled enthusiastically. "Yay!" Their eyes locked for a moment and Daniel got lost in the warmth of hers. He loved when she looked like that - happy, affectionate, trusting - and when that look was aimed directly at him it made him swell with pride.

* * *

><p>The Londonesque staff were crammed into their tiny meeting room for a pitch meeting the next morning. Betty understood the importance of it but her brain was elsewhere. A gazillion thoughts were distracting her – the issue that she was supposed to have ready for the printers the next day was one, as was the ad meeting with Lindsey this afternoon. She was confident she was prepared but she was extremely nervous about it. She'd done small advertising meetings with Lindsey when she had first started at the magazine so she could "learn the ins and outs" as Lindsey had called it, but since then she hadn't been involved at all. The bulk of winning advertisers was left to the sales reps at Dunne. Now here she was meeting with a relatively large, potentially significant account and most of the presentation was on her shoulders so she could explain the vision for the magazine.<p>

"I think that's a great idea. What do you think Betty?" Lindsey's question pulled her back into the meeting at hand.

"Uh…sorry, I blanked out there for a second." She looked apologetically around the room to cover all the bases because, shamefully, she didn't even know whose "great idea" it was.

Lindsey smiled knowingly, as if he somehow understood what a bundle of nerves she was this morning, and patted her forearm as it rested on the table in front of her. "Rachel thinks we might be smart to do some reader enticing this next go round with a flashy celebrity cover."

"Oh." Betty considered that for a moment as she looked at Rachel's hopeful face. "Well, it is a good idea that would entice readers," she started slowly. "But it's not really who we are." Rachel's face dropped significantly and Betty felt a little guilty. "I mean if it was a celebrity just for celebrity sake," she clarified.

Rachel perked up and looked hopeful again. "What if it was a celebrity that offered something significant to some kind of organization or fund that helped others?"

Betty's interest peaked slightly, but only slightly. "Like they gave significantly to a particular charity that was close to their hearts? I still wouldn't really want to focus on the celebrity because that's not really what we're about."

"No. But what if we focused on the charity? I'll tell you what I'm thinking. Sienna Miller is fabulous. She's everywhere lately and I think she's also the Global Ambassador to International Medical Corps."

"What's International Medical Corps?" Betty was more keenly interested now.

"It's an international aid agency that provides medical aid to countries in crisis," Rachel explained looking excited again.

"Like Doctors Without Borders?"

"Sort of. I think they are very similar with some minor mission focused differences. I'm not sure, but I believe Doctors Without Borders focuses more on the immediate crisis and global awareness of that crisis. I think IMC focuses on the immediate as well as development for the country in crisis so they can become self-sufficient, with medical training programs and the like."

Betty thoughtfully contemplated it. "Like 'teaching a man to fish' versus 'giving a man a fish'. "

"Exactly." Rachel nodded, her bright green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Betty nodded too, starting to feel really hopeful about it. "I think I like the idea. Lots of people know about Doctors Without Borders, or at least have heard of it, but I've never heard of this other one. It sounds like they do some good stuff and people should be made aware of it. Plus whatever they have their hands in right now might make for an interesting story. I'd like to see more though. Do you think you could find out more about the organization, Rachel? Find out what countries they are pouring their resources into right now. Also, see if you can find out more about Sienna Miller's involvement with them – how deeply it runs. I'd say, tentatively, it looks like a viable option and if she is the global ambassador that could potentially give us the celebrity cover we're looking for. If that's the case, we can do a series of articles, starting with one focusing on the organization and branching from there to some of the countries they are aiding and the work they are doing in them."

Rachel beamed enthusiastically. "Certainly. I can probably get something to you by later today."

"Great." Betty looked around the table. "So who else has some great ideas?"

The rest of the meeting was filled with other, unrelated ideas, some of which they could use in this month's issue and others they would table for future use – everything from interviewing the new Labour Party leader to the environmental impact of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.

As everyone dispersed from the area Lindsey smiled appreciatively at Betty. "Have I told you how glad I am that I hired you?"

Betty smiled broadly. "Once or twice."

"Well I am. And I know you're distracted by this afternoon's meeting but I'm sure you'll do great. I'm there too don't forget, and I have a few things to say as well. You're not on your own."

"Thanks."

"I really like this celebrity cover idea. I know it hasn't been our style or our mandate but we can certainly use it, especially to entice advertisers who are looking for a little flash. Hopefully we can make it work for this next issue."

Betty nodded. She hoped so too. Not only would it be a great hook for new readers and advertisers but IMC truly sounded like an organization that people should know more about.

"There is one more thing, my dear. Dunne Publications annually hosts this charity event, kind of like a ball, for the British Heart Foundation. It's near and dear to me because a bad ticker runs in the family. Anyway, I always like to have representation from all the publications. I would love it if you could attend." He handed her the official invitation with all the details.

Betty examined the invitation as she walked back to her desk. It was quite a formal event and she didn't think she had anything appropriate in her closet. It seemed like a shopping trip was in order in the next week or two.

* * *

><p>"So I was hoping you would be my plus one?" she asked, tucking the phone between her chin and her shoulder so she could use one hand to hold her sandwich and the other to work her mouse so she could catch up on her emails. She took a small bite of the sandwich.<p>

"Of course, when is it?"

Betty chewed her mouthful quickly so she could answer but there was enough of a pause that Daniel spoke again.

"Betty? I asked when it is."

"Sorry," she replied after a quick swallow. "My mouth was full." She placed the sandwich down and took the phone in her hand again.

"You're doing everything at once again, aren't you?" Daniel asked sounding concerned.

"I have to. I have that meeting this afternoon, plus I have to have the final edits done so I can send this edition to the printers tomorrow. We had a pitch meeting this morning and I haven't even had time to read any emails yet today."

"So when is this ball thingy?"

"I think it's the twenty-third." She pulled the calendar open on her phone. "Yes, it's the twenty-third."

There was a brief pause while Daniel checked his schedule. "I'm free."

"Oh, good," she sighed. "I didn't want to go on my own."

"Thanks…I think."

"I didn't mean it like that." She smiled at the way it had come across. "I would be honoured to have you as my escort," she gushed but then, of course, she couldn't help adding, "I could use the arm candy."

He chuckled a little. "Arm candy, huh? I should be offended."

"Oh, you love being used for your body, remember?"

"That's not exactly what I meant by that," he admitted. "Speaking of using me for my body, do you have to work again tonight?"

Betty snickered a little at his segue but then she responded, more subdued, "Yeah, I'm sorry." She looked at the stuff in front of her on the desk and knew there was no way she was going to be able to meet up with him. "Don't you have to get Mode ready for printing too?"

"I do. But it's been easier this month. I have a new fashion editor who is keen for all sorts of challenges and experience." She couldn't be certain but she suspected he was smirking a little.

"You're not overworking Marc are you?" She smiled a little at the thought.

"I'm not _overworking_ him. I'm merely allowing him the benefit of experiencing editorial responsibility. And he's really good. He's going to be doing this job somewhere one day."

"Of course he is. But you better watch it because if you keep abusing him he'll be running back to Wilhelmina."

"Would you listen to yourself? What could I possibly dish out that would compare to Wilhelmina's abuse?"

"Yes, but he idolizes the woman which means he's more willing to take almost anything from her."

"You do have a point there," Daniel conceded. There was a tiny pause and then he added softly, hesitantly. "Uh, I guess…" He cleared his throat. "I…uh…I won't get to see you until you get the magazine out then, which means tomorrow night, at the earliest? But then we have the weekend, right?"

Betty felt a little bad because obviously he'd forgotten. "Oh…I'm going to meet up with Christina for the weekend, remember?"

"You are?" He sounded disappointed.

"Yeah, I told you a couple of days ago. It slipped my mind when we out for lunch yesterday because I was so excited about the Keira shoot."

"Oh yeah. I guess renting that movie is out then."

"If you're so disappointed that you're not going to see it, you could rent it on your own." She couldn't help teasing him a little.

"Funny. You know that's not going to happen. So, uh, when do you get back on Sunday? Maybe I could see you then?"

"I'm not in until pretty late," she replied apologetically.

"Oh." He sounded deflated.

"You know, my train doesn't leave until Saturday morning. Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow night?" She hated hearing him sound like that and it would be nice to spend at least one evening of the weekend with him.

"That would be great. I hate the thought of not getting a chance to see you all weekend, especially since I didn't get to see you last night and I won't again tonight either."

Betty put her hand up to her chest as her heart constricted a little. She turned away from the computer, more interested in this conversation anyway. "Aww…that sounds a little like you miss me."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. There was something in your tone." She smiled and hugged the phone up to her cheek. Daniel missed her and they'd only been apart since yesterday. How adorable was that? And without an iota of that suffocating sensation Matt's "miss you much" mantra had instilled.

"Maybe you're reading too much into it." He sounded playful.

"Maybe. But I don't think so. Would it make you feel better if I told you, I miss you too?"

"No. That just makes both of us pathetic because we saw each other yesterday at lunch."

"So, you're admitting it - you do miss me."

"I do. You know, there is a perfectly logical solution to all this pathetic missing of each other. If we were living in the same place—"

"Daniel…" she warned but she had to smile a little too.

"What? I'm just being practical. Even if we worked late we'd still come home to each other."

She envisioned climbing into his oversized king bed and snuggling into his sleeping side, after working until all hours of the evening. She'd be ever so quiet so she didn't wake him. Then again…maybe she would wake him. She smiled and bit her lower lip. "That does sound nice."

"I know. Think about it."

"I am," she assured him. "Just let me wrap my head around this ad meeting and getting this issue out first."


	33. Covert Operative for Information Retriev

_The title of this chapter is Covert Operative for Information Retrieval but I guess that's just a few characters too long for a fanfiction title. Anyway, I didn't want to try and think up a new one so that's why it's cut off._

* * *

><p>"Wow, you definitely have a crush on this guy, Marc. There's no point denying it anymore."<p>

Amanda and Marc were snuggled up on the couch in their flat. Amanda had her legs across Marc's lap and he was resting his head on her shoulder. He'd been mopey since they returned home from another evening out for drinks with colleagues from work. Another evening out that Mickey had turned down because he was "busy".

"I know. It's just, he's kind of everything I've ever wanted wrapped up in a single package. He's smart, funny, catty, stylish, cute and witty." Marc sighed deeply and fully of longing.

"What is with you? I don't think I've ever seen you like this before."

"That's because this attraction from afar stuff is new to me, Amanda – well, apart from the Gyll-enthrall. All the really attractive guys I've dated in the past were brainless nitwits – models with an IQ of about five. Rejection wasn't much of a worry because all I had to do was use a three syllable word and they thought I was some kind of genius. Cliff was different; he was smart and funny but average looking and a little chunky so he wasn't intimidating."

"A little?" Amanda questioned, but Marc gave her a look and she dropped it. "What about Troy?"

"He was cute and fairly smart but kind of dull. And let's face it, there's nothing intimidating about dull. Besides, he worshipped the ground I walked on. It was his most attractive feature, really," he added thoughtfully.

Amanda nodded her head in agreement to that. "So ask Mickey out already."

"Says the woman who said I was out of his league." Marc lifted his head off her shoulder and glared at her, decidedly annoyed that she'd started that.

"Oh, you're so sensitive. You're never going to know if he thinks you're attractive unless you ask him out. And just because you're not in the same league doesn't mean he won't date you. Look at Jaylo and Mark Anthony, Heidi Klume and Seale, or Julia Roberts and Lyle Lovett. I know it's a cliché but there really are 'no accountants with taste'."

"It's 'no accounting for taste', Amanda," Marc corrected her.

"Really? That doesn't sound right at all." She looked purplexed and then she shrugged. "My version makes more sense."

He changed the subject back to his problem. "I can't ask him out on a _date_. I mean, he won't even come out for drinks with us after work. Drinks with coworkers seems like a non-threatening way to get to know each other and he won't even do that. "

"And by non-threatening you mean cop out because you are too chicken to ask him on a real date, just the two of you," Amanda clarified.

"I am _not_ too chicken," Marc replied defensively.

"Oh, come on Marc. You had me invite him to drinks at least two of the four times we went this past week."

"I know, and if we try to go for drinks anymore he's going to start thinking we have a problem." Marc put his head back down on her shoulder. "I haven't had a chance to get to know anything more about him than I get around the office, but I know a lot more about fashion challenged Fiona from features than I ever wanted too. Nobody cares that your cat had an absess, lady. Please don't regale us with all the gory details of how the vet drained it." He grimaced with disgust but then got back to his point. "I don't understand, Mickey's friendly around the office, he doesn't act stuck up, and yet four times, Amanda. We asked him out for drinks with a group of us _four_ times and he turned us down every time." Marc was incredulous. "I mean, look at us. Who does that?"

"I know. What's up with that? He's so mysterious. Have you ever noticed he never talks about family or anything?"

He sat up again, to look at her. "So. Neither do I. And your only comments about family are 'I'm Fey Sommer's daughter and my bio dad is an actor'. Not that anyone cares."

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true. Hardly anyone knows who Fey is around here."

She suddenly gasped. "Maybe he won't come out because he's hiding something. Maybe he's a spy. A gay double-oh-seven. Ooooh, that is so hot."

"It is," Marc agreed. "But I really don't think he's a spy Amanda. What secrets is he stealing from a fashion magazine, that hem lines are rising half an inch next season?"

"They are?"

"No Mandy, I was using it as an example. " He sighed with frustration. "Never mind, he's not a spy." He put his head back on the back of the sofa and looked at the ceiling.

"Aww, it's okay Marc." She rubbed his arm.

"This has gotten really bad, Amanda. I've done things I'm not proud of."

"I know. I found that video in your underwear drawer," Amanda cringed.

"I wasn't talking about that, and stay out of my skivvies," Marc snapped, and then immediately changed his tone. "I meant that this crush or whatever has made me do some desperate things."

"Like that shirt you're wearing?" Amanda questioned, in all seriousness, looking at his flashy, checkered print button down.

"I'll have you know this is a brand new Louis Vuitton," Marc replied getting offended but not wanting to get off track. "I'm talking about snooping around his desk the other day when he was away from it."

"You didn't!" She gasped and her eyes went wide but the shock was obviously contrived.

Marc nodded with chagrin. "I did."

"Please Marc, you've done worse things in your sleep. A little snooping is child's play for you."

"I know. And yet I feel guilty about it, like I'm some kind of stalker. But that's not the worst part. Last night when I worked late and I was in 'the closet', I practiced asking him out…" He lowered his voice to a whisper, the shame rendering it impossible to speak this at a normal volume. "with a mannequin."

"Oh my God, that's like dorkapalooza desperate."

"I know." Marc shook his head hoping to shake off the image.

"That's like lonely looser lame," Amanda added.

"I _know_," he repeated a little more forcefully.

"That's almost like that accountant, Grubstank, has invaded your body. And not in the good way," Amanda interjected once again shaking her head and looking at him like she was seeing him in a new light.

"I know!" Marc barked. "You're not really helping here, Mandy. You're supposed to say something reassuring like 'we all do impulsive things like that once in a while, you'll never do it again and no one will find out so don't worry about it.'"

"No one but the security guys, you mean."

"What?" Marc's heart stopped.

"Have you forgotten about the cameras all over the office? Maybe they didn't catch the live show, but you know as well as I do, they'll get it on the replay."

"You don't know that, Amanda. They don't watch every video, every day."

"Oh come on Marc. They sit cooped up at that tiny desk all day. They have to pass the time somehow. I'm sure they don't watch hours of empty rooms and hallways, but if they catch a glimpse of you in 'the closet' they might be curious what you're up to."

He thought of something particularly unsettling. "One of those security guys hates me." His eyes went wide. "He's likely to post it on YouTube or something." Another thought occurred to him and he gasped and held his head in his hands. "Oh my God! 'Gay man in tiara, dancing with male mannequin in sequined G-string' will go viral in half a day!"

"Oh my God!" Amanda echoed his exclamation. "They have sequined G-strings in there?"

"They do, in varying colours." Marc nodded.

She shook it off. "Never mind that…for now. What the hell were you thinking, dancing around in a tiara with a mannequin?"

"Shut up! Don't judge me, woman. I 've seen what's in your nightstand." Marc was practically frantic.

She looked apprehensive about that revelation and she immediately changed the subject. "Why does the security guy hate you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I made some perfectly harmless comments. It's not my fault the picture of his girlfriend on his desk looks like she could be his mother. And is it really so awful to recommend a potent mouthwash when someone truly has a problem? I was doing him a favour." Marc was starting to get agitated. He pulled his asthma inhaler out of his pocket and took a deep breath. "We need to get that video before he does something incriminating with it."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Amanda asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

* * *

><p>"Do you really think this is going to work, Marc?" Amanda strutted down the hall beside him. It was well into the evening, after almost everyone had left not only the office, but the building.<p>

"It has to Mandy. " He turned and grabbed her arms dramatically. "I will NOT be known as the guy who dances with dolls." He shivered. "I lost that title after junior high and I have no intention of taking it back." He pressed the button for the elevator.

"Why don't you just bribe the security guy?"

"With what? My new cashmere Marc Jacobs sweater? Something tells me these buffoons don't appreciate quality fashion and I don't have the kind of cash that would entice them."

"So what's the plan?" Amanda asked just as the elevator doors opened. They stepped inside and Marc pressed the button for the ground floor. He pointed to the camera in the corner and then put his index finger over his lips.

When they arrived on the ground floor, Marc found a little nook with no cameras in the vicinity so he could fill her in on the details.

"Is there sound on the security video?" She asked once they were safely tucked away in the nook.

"I have no idea, but better safe than sorry. So, the plan is to get onto the computer and take the video." Marc made sure to keep his voice down.

"Isn't that like stealing?"

"No, it's not _like_ stealing, it _is_ stealing." Marc took out his inhaler and took a deep breath of it. "But I can't choose now, of all times, to start getting moral. My reputation is on the line. Do you have any idea of some of the things I did for Wilhelmina?" He shuddered with chagrin. "And that was only for career enhancement. Next to that, stealing one tiny little video file - that they're never going to miss - makes me feel like a girl scout."

Amanda nodded. "And we both know how you like to feel like a girl scout." Marc nodded thoughtful agreement to that before she asked, "Okay, so what am I doing here?"

"You're my distraction, of course. Some harmless flirting with the security guard - a little wiggle of your hips and jiggle of your girls - and he's putty in your hands. You can drag him off for a quick little make-out session or whatever, depending how cute he is, I don't care. Just distract him long enough that I can get onto the computer and figure out which video it is."

Amanda put her hands on her hips. "Marc, I'm insulted! This body was never designed to be flaunted and used to entice people for personal gain."

They looked each other solemnly for a brief second before bursting into hysterical laughter at the same time.

"Yeah, and Wilhelmina's beauty is as natural as the day she was born," Marc said and they cracked up again. "Shhh," Marc put his finger up to his lips, reminding them to try not to attract too much attention. He continued explaining the plan. "Okay, so when you're doing that, I'll drag it from the hard drive onto my flash drive, once I figure out which is the right slot to put my stick into." He wasn't a technological genius but he thought he knew enough he could wing it when he was in the situation.

Amanda burst out laughing again which startled Marc. He looked at her emphatically. "What's so funny?"

Amanda sobered. "Oh, you're serious. I thought that was some kind of gay joke."

"No." He dug the portable drive out of his pocket. "This is my flash drive. Okay, follow me." He looked down at her stilettos and remembered the incessant click-clacking in the hall upstairs. "And slip those off for a minute." He pointed to her feet and she obliged.

They noiselessly made their way closer to the security desk, ducking behind pillars and corners until Marc stopped behind a large marble pillar about thirty feet away. He motioned with his finger toward the desk, indicating it was time for Amanda to start her part. Amanda nodded, slipped her heels back on and straightened her short, fitted dress over her curves, pulling it down a little. She looked over and Marc and he shook his head disapprovingly.

"What?" She mouthed, confused.

He grabbed the sides of it and yanked it up, so it was well up her thighs. Then he took hold of the top two buttons and with one smooth motion popped them open displaying a generous amount of cleavage, including the centre of her bra. Amanda glanced down and then back up at him, the look of disgust obvious.

"Oh come on, Amanda. You show more skin than that when you go to a funeral," he whispered.

"That's only to help the grieving widower forget his pain," she defended, also with a whisper, but Marc's face was pleading. "Fine. But if I get a reputation of being a slut, it's on your head."

"That ship has sailed, woman. I think it left port sometime around the eighth grade."

The guard had his back to them as he watched some of the security monitors. Amanda sashayed across the lobby and smoothly made her way over to the far side of the security desk so she could see Marc over the guard's shoulder. Marc had a fairly clear view of the exchange from his position crouched behind the marble pillar, because there was a large tinted window that overlooked the street on the opposite side of the security desk, and at this time of night, with the bright lights of the office, it was acting as a rather effective mirror.

As soon as the guard looked up and smiled at Amanda, Marc noticed - in the reflection of the window - the misaligned, grotesque mouthful of teeth and greasy cow-lick. Amanda subtly glanced over at his position, her eyes wide and horrified. Marc threw his hands together in front of his chest, silently begging. Her eyes softened. He was going to owe her big time for this. At least the guy had a relatively muscular upper body – that had to account for something. But he also knew that his time was reduced, at least by half, because there was no way she would get caught up in a steamy make-out session with him.

He had no idea what excuse she had used but she managed to drag him away from the desk and she was doing a fair amount of upper arm petting so she was going to be distracting him for a little while at least. As soon as they were out of sight, Marc slipped into the chair at the desk and started clicking the mouse around looking for video files. He found the folder and then quickly looked at the subfolders. They were organized by date and he isolated the right one, but the files inside had somewhat ambiguous names so he couldn't tell which one was for "the closet".

Suddenly, from behind, he heard Amanda giggle, a deep chortle of some sort, and their mumbling voices. Oh my Gucci! He quickly highlighted the entire folder, cut it, and pasted it onto the flash drive. The symbol that the computer was working popped up and he held his breath.

"Hey!" The greasy guard caught sight of him just at the symbol disappeared.

"Run Mabel! He has a gun!" Amanda screamed. Marc snatched his flash drive out of the machine and jumped up as quickly as he could.

He hightailed it out of there - arms and legs flailing - as fast as his body would carry him. His heart felt like it would burst through his chest it was beating so rapidly, and the burst of adrenaline made him faster than he ever remembered being. He wasn't positive because it all happened in a blur, and he'd deny it if accused, but he thought he might have emitted a high pitched squeal as he took off out the front door.

After running about a block, Marc ducked behind a wall, into an ally, and peaked around the corner, watching for his poor, sweet, sacrificial Amanda, hoping desperately that she had gotten away. He didn't have to wait long and she came shuffling down the side walk in her stilettos. She was pretty fast in those things. He reached out and snatched her arm, pulling her unexpectedly into the ally with him. She squealed so he clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Shh, it's me," he whispered before releasing her to peer around the corner again. The security guard was nowhere in sight. He must have decided not to leave his post in order to follow them. Marc's heart was starting to slow down a little. "Mabel?" he asked, her words finally beginning to sink in.

"You didn't want me to use your real name, did you?" Amanda asked as if it were obvious. Surprisingly, given this was Amanda, there was a lot of logic and foresight in that.

Marc was catching his breath and although not exactly relaxed he was starting to feel more at ease. "Did he really have a gun?" he asked, the idea of it starting his heart racing again.

"Of course not," Amanda shook her head. "Most of the cops around here don't even have guns. I just wanted you to run fast and besides it's hilarious to watch your arms and legs flail like that when you're freaking out."

Marc glared at her. "Well thank you for that, Amanda. Thanks to you I now have the entire surveillance for last Wednesday on my USB drive."

"You had to take it anyway. Gun or not, what were you going to do, slap the guy into submission? He's twice your size and not afraid of making a fist."

"I'm not _afraid _of making a fist," Marc defended. "It's just so hard on the cuticles. And hitting someone with the back of your hand is illogical and barbaric. It's not even the toughest part of your anatomy. A person could really hurt their knuckles that way." He sighed and pulled the USB drive out of his pocket. "I have to put it back before they notice it's missing."

"What?" Amanda looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Well not until I find my video, of course. But as soon as I do that, we'll have to put the rest back."

"Are you crazy, Marc?" Amanda asked completely astonished. "Do you think that guy is going to trust us anywhere near the desk again?"

"We have to Amanda. They're not going to notice one file but I think an entire day might look a little suspicious. We'll just have to make sure one of the other guys is on duty. What about the early morning guy?"

Amanda sighed. "Fine. But I sure hope he's cuter."

* * *

><p>Back at their apartment Marc decided to search through the folder immediately. He was pretty sure the security guy hadn't realized what he was doing at the desk so the sooner he got rid of the right video and could return the rest, the less chance there was of being caught. If he could take it back tomorrow they might not even notice it had gone missing.<p>

He connected the flash drive to his computer and started searching through the folders. He heard Amanda rummaging around the kitchen and then he heard the microwave door slam. He focused back on the files with the ambiguous file names, which were really a series of numbers. There were so many it was overwhelming and although it was almost definitely systematic, he didn't think he'd be able to figure out what the system was. The best way to do it was methodically opening one at a time.

He selected the first one and patiently waited, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, as the computer opened it. It displayed a room with a long table - the boardroom - completely empty. He closed it and opened the second one. He was partway through the fifth one, still with no success, when Amanda came over to the tiny round table he was sitting at in their dining room, a huge bowl of popcorn in her hand.

"What is that?" Marc asked, astonished to see her with frivolous, empty calories.

"They call it popcorn." She rolled her eyes.

"Mandy, what's happened to you? We managed to get rid of the HobNobs and now this? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. We're watching a movie, that requires popcorn."

"We're watching security videos. And since when do you eat popcorn?"

"Listen, you never know what you might discover on these little gems. It could be as entertaining as any blockbuster." She took a mouthful of popcorn and Marc realized how right she could be. There could be all sorts of torrid scandals going on in the offices and halls of Mode, there certainly were in New York. She finished her mouthful as Marc closed a boring file of Elaine's office. "And don't worry, this is supper anyway."

_Well if it was supper, he might as well have some._

He took a handful as he clicked open another file. "I'm not sure about it being better than a blockbuster. Remember your question about whether or not there was sound? There isn't, so it's more like a silent movie."

She nodded and they sat there for another couple of minutes and a few more files.

"So far, so boring," Amanda commented as she chewed and then she suddenly stopped. "Hey, it's me with Betty." She pointed to the screen and the image of her greeting Betty in the atrium. "I look good."

"You do. Thin and tall. That's a good look for you. You should stand beside Betty more often," Marc commented.

She nodded as Marc closed the file. "What are you doing?"

"Mandy, I'm looking for a specific file. I don't have time to watch hours of video about nothing."

"It's _not_ nothing. It's me." She sounded offended.

"No offence but I see you all time. If you want, you can watch this one later. Write down the file name so you can find it again."

Marc clicked one more and it was Daniel's office. He was about to close it but Amanda stopped him. "What now?" he asked.

"That's Daniel's office."

"I know. What's your point?"

"Betty came to visit Daniel on Wednesday." She grabbed the mouse and clicked the fast-forward button that allowed them to view the video at ten times the speed. It sped through a length of empty office, and another incredibly dull section of Daniel working on his computer, fidgeting and staring out his window or up at the ceiling.

"It's nice to see how hard the Editor-in-Chief works," Marc commented sarcastically. "No wonder he was bugging me down in the studio."

The video was still playing quickly through the file when suddenly Daniel hopped up out of his chair and disappeared from view of the camera, obviously at his office door. A second later Betty was at his desk. Amanda instantly stopped the video and played it at the regular speed.

"Would you look at those two?" She sighed as Daniel said something and then pulled Betty close to kiss her. "Do you think I'll ever find something like that?"

"Of course you will. Do we really have to watch this?" Marc sighed, annoyed and bored.

"It's sweet Marc. Look at the way they look at each other. It's all flirty and cute. He even said something that made her embarrassed. Look how he's…" Amanda examined them closer and her eyebrows shot up.

"How he's sticking his tongue down her throat?" Marc finished her sentence with a cringe. "Okay, that's enough of that one Mandy." He reached for the mouse.

She slapped his hand. "Are you joking? It's just getting good."

Daniel had thrown Betty's coat and jacket to the floor and was lifting her up on the desk.

"Oh my God. Turn it off." Marc turned away and put his hand up to block the view.

"Mmm…Marc you gotta see this. They're gonna do it right in his office in the middle of the day."

"There is no way…" Marc turned back to look just as Betty shook her head slowly. "See, I told you Suarez would never—"

"Oh my God!" Amanda's eyes went wide with surprised delight as Daniel pounced on Betty, seemingly renewed in his enthusiasm.

Marc grimaced like he was in pain. "Okay, seriously Amanda. This is one image I really don't want burned onto my retinas." He turned away again and heard Amanda exhale, sounding disappointed.

"Don't worry, Marc, something stopped them." She skimmed quickly through some talking, them scurrying out of his office, and some boring empty office time.

"I guess that's all she wrote," Marc commented. She was about to close it when he stopped her. "Hold on, that's Mickey. Just give me a minute," he sighed.

"Pathetic." She rolled her eyes.

"Like your dye job."

"Teenage girl."

"Illiterate tramp."

Amanda gasped and looked wounded. "That was low Marc. But I'll have you know that doesn't hurt nearly as much now that I've met my biological father."

Marc exhaled loudly with exasperation. "I said _illiterate_, not illegitimate."

"Oh." Apparently she wasn't nearly as offended. "Well in that case, what are we doing? We shouldn't be fighting. Especially not with Mickey stealing somebody's phone or something."

"What?" Marc looked at the screen and sure enough, Mickey was holding a phone in his hand. "What do you mean stealing? How do you know it's not his?"

"Because he just picked it up off of the floor by Daniel's desk."

"Yeah? Well that doesn't mean he's stealing it," Marc argued, not exactly sure how he felt about Mickey's dishonourable actions.

Just as he said it, Mickey walked out of view of the camera with it in his hand. Amanda looked at Marc with her eyebrows raised.

"That still doesn't mean he stole it," Marc defended again. "We need to find the video of his desk."

"Never mind, Marc." Amanda had skimmed ahead and now Mickey was back in the office placing the phone on the floor, exactly where he found it. "Why is he putting it back down on the floor and not on Daniel's desk?"

Marc shrugged. "And what did he do with it when he left the screen?"

Marc spent the next longest while, not only finding and getting rid of the video with him in the "closet", but looking for the video of Mickey's desk so he could find out what he did with that phone. When he finally did, his eyes were tired and strained and he was as puzzled at what he'd seen as he was before he'd found it. It looked like Mickey had copied the information from it, as if he was backing up the data. But what information could he want? And why? Marc shook his head and finally decided to give up trying to figure it out. This was definitely an enlightening experience. He probably knew Mickey better now than if he had come out for drinks with everyone from work all four times and he wasn't really sure how he felt about it.

If he was questioned under oath, in front of a jury of his peers, he wouldn't have been able to give a proper explanation for what he did next, because _he_ didn't even understand it. He took the both the video files of Mickey, and his morally questionable behaviour, out of the security folder and put them on his laptop.

A little while later he was moping on the sofa, head on Amanda's shoulder.

"He's so fabulous with his style and his looks and his hair that I shouldn't care that his behaviour is morally suspect, and yet I do. He's not attractive to me in the slightest right now." Marc shook his head in disbelief, his heart breaking a little.

"Really?" Amanda sounded skeptical.

"Okay, he's not _as_ attractive to me as he was a couple hours ago."

She sat back from him and gave him a look.

"Fine. He's just as hot as ever but I'm morally conflicted about how I feel about that."

"Aww Marc." Amanda pulled him close and he rested his head on her chest while she petted his hair.

"I know. What has happened to me?"

"I think Betty would call it 'decency'. Oh my God, you're being Suarez-ized!" Amanda gasped.

Marc sat up immediately. "Hssss!" He raised his hand up to her, claws out, teeth bared. "Bite your tongue, woman."

"Did you just hiss at me?" Amanda asked, stunned.

"I'm sorry. It was reflexive." Marc was shaken by all of this. "I'm just not used to that word being aimed at me."

"Which word, 'decency' or 'Suarez-ized'?"

"Either." Marc curled himself up into the fetal position and put his head on Amanda's lap and she stroked his hair again. "I'm lost Amanda. The old Marc would not only have been able to shake off whatever questionable behaviour of invading Betty's privacy he was partaking in, but probably would have cheered him on."

"Isn't it a little hypothetical for you to be so judgemental about Mickey when the only reason you know about it in the first place, is because of your illegal activity of stealing the videos and invading everyone's privacy by watching them."

"I think you mean hypocritical, Amanda," Marc replied, thinking about it. He sat up. "You know, you're right. Who am I to judge? And it's not like we even know what he was uploading off of the phone."

"Right." She hesitated. "So do we tell Daniel or Betty?"

"No. Absolutely not. We don't even know what he did with the information. And he gave the phone back."

"Well technically he put the phone back on the floor."

"Right, whatever. The point is maybe he did nothing with it." There was definitely hope there and Marc was grasping at it.

"Sure. Maybe he was just…" Amanda shook her head slowly and paused like she was thinking really hard. "I'm sorry, I got nothin'."

Marc inhaled as deeply as possible and exhaled slowly.


End file.
